


Don't Waste It...Don't Waste Your Life

by faino



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dad!Tony, Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter-centric, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony-centric, dad! tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-01-15 15:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12323439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faino/pseuds/faino
Summary: Peter has graduated high school and is preparing for his next big step: a spot on the Avengers, the gig he's always dreamed of with people he's always admired. Everything's going according to plan...Until it doesn't. He expected a few changes, but he could have never imagined this. Those closest to him are taken away from him, and dangerous threats seek to ruin everything he's dreamt of. Can Peter bear this weight? Can Tony piece him together again if he can't...?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Hope you enjoy--the story sets up a lot of the situation with post-hs Peter, but worry not...the action and angst will soon arrive!

It had been more than two years since the vulture incident. As Peter walked up the steps, he thought back to that night—the way his legs had trembled upon those very stairs. As his sweaty palm grasped the door handle leading into the gym, he remembered the panic running through his head while the muffled music had blared.

“Honey!” May exclaimed, an excited hand reaching across his shoulder. Peter snapped out of it. “I can’t believe this is happening. Can you believe it? Oh, you just look so handsome.”

They were stopped in the doorway, May touching Peter’s chin tenderly and beaming with pride. She moved to straighten his tie (he had finally mastered the knot, with Tony’s help). Peter held a blue graduation cap in his right hand, the gown draped over his forearm.

“Okay, you need to go, I know. And I need to go or else I’ll start crying. You look great, Peter. Go get ‘em, tiger.” May smiled and embraced her nephew quickly.

“Thanks May,” Peter responded, smiling as she headed back to the car.

“What up loser.” MJ appeared on Peter’s left, combat boots tightened securely on her green-socked feet. Peter wasn’t surprised that even graduation couldn’t change her characteristically unique style preferences.

“Ned’s already here, let’s go.”

Peter and MJ rushed inside, past the rows of chairs set up across the gym floor. They spent the next hour donning their caps and gowns and snapping selfies. Principal Morita had just snagged a few classmates out of their homeroom, busted for showing up to graduation drunk. Ned was rambling about his summer plans, a trip to Hawaii with family and then—much to Peter’s delight—2 months of Lego building and NYC chilling with the trio.

“..And then I figure we can make a list of some things around Queens we want to do together one last time, ya know? And as we check them off, maybe we can take pictures and make a scrapbook or something.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “What is this, a middle school girls’ slumber party?”

“Hey, you know you’re in,” Peter joked. Ever since MJ found out about the whole Spider-Man thing, the three of them had shared just about everything. He knew her like the back of his hand by now, so her feigned annoyance never fooled him.

She paused. “Yeah whatever…I’m in.” She smiled. It was odd of her to smile, but Peter noticed she’d been doing it more and more ever since she and Ned decided on college. It’s like she could tell that their friendship (as they knew it now, at least) was running out of time. But Peter didn’t want to think about that. They still had the summer. He was determined to live in the moment.

“Alright, almost-grads, 15 minutes ‘til we process. Start lining up!” a nearby teacher yelled.

Peter’s phone buzzed.

_Hey kid, ceremony’s tomorrow right?_

Tony. Peter loved when Tony reached out. Except….

_Uhhhh. No it’s today. Like right now just about. Did you talk to May??? She said she was gonna save you a seat, but idk it may be full by now._

_Relax kid, kidding,_ Tony responded. A second later, a selfie of Tony, May, and Happy flashed across the screen. Happy wasn’t smiling, but Peter knew he wouldn’t have been there if he hadn’t wanted to be.

Before he knew it, his line was being shuffled out of the classroom and through doors leading outside. They snaked their way to the front entrance of the gym. Right beneath the steps, parked (illegally) in the middle of the drive, was a red Audi convertible. Peter sighed. Of course he would park right there.

His classmates oohed and ah-ed. Principal Morita shouted as students stopped to take pictures with Iron Man’s car. “Back in line, everyone, keep it moving.”

Eventually, people had learned Peter’s internship was no joke, but still, Tony rarely made public appearances in their high school hallways. His classmates looked back at him and smiled.

“I can’t believe Iron Man is here for you, dude,” Ned beamed. “We’re cool, by association.”

Peter would have been more embarrassed, if it were any day but today. He was really, really…glad. He was glad Tony was here for this.

 

 

 

“I would like to propose a toast.” The talk died down. “…to someone very special, the man of the hour.” Tony nodded in Peter’s direction.

May squeezed Peter in a side hug, holding him close by her side. Steve and Clint were the last to quiet down, alerted by Bruce’s shushing.

“Peter,” Tony began. “We all know you as a fighter, a hero, a man not afraid to risk it all to do what’s right. You may very well be the best damn hero New York has ever seen. You’ve got the skills, you’ve got the smarts, and you’ve got one hell of a superpower. But we’re not here to celebrate what some spider gave you when he decided to make you his lunch meat. We’re here to celebrate you, the person behind the mask, the man who’s taken that power and put it to good use.” Tony faltered, twitching his mouth as he always did when his emotions threatened to get too out of control.

“If I’d have been able to do what you can do, Peter,” he continued sincerely, “I have no doubt I would’ve let it go to waste. But you don’t waste good. You’re a hero through and through, and one hell of a man.”

Peter could have sworn he saw his eyes water. Tony seemed to sense it, too. He sniffled, cleared his throat, and hurriedly continued.

“It’s been one heck of a ride kid, here’s to you.” Tony hardly paused as he mumbled the last part, gazing down at his feet and briefly at Peter. The whole emotional thing was definitely making him feel uncomfortable.

The room filled with applause, and Peter nodded his appreciation to Tony from across the room. May squeezed him tight, as Steve took the next turn with a toast.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ned whispered in Peter’s ear after the speeches subsided. They were refilling their drinks at the kitchen island. “We’re partying with the Avengers. This is so cool.”

Peter was amazed that, even after two years, Ned still couldn’t keep his cool about this whole thing. But then again, Peter was Spider-Man and he was still freaking out about it himself, too. Graduation Party at the Avengers facility? Unreal.

As the party died down, Peter grabbed his duffel from the corner. He was all set to start a week-long training at the facility, so this would be his goodbye for now to Ned, MJ, and May.

Ned and MJ approached him first.

“Ned, I can’t wait to hear about Hawaii,” Peter said, as Ned reached for their handshake. Once completed, Peter turned to MJ. She stared at him, blank look on her face, as always.

“Bye Peter. See you around.” Once again, she broke into a subtle smile. Peter didn’t hesitate this time, drawing her into a hug. And much to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him with ease. They stood there like that for a few seconds, before he broke away.

“We did it, guys. How ‘bout that?” Peter said with a little bit of sadness. 

“Ned, MJ, the car’s unlocked whenever you’re ready!” May called out, joining the group. Ned and MJ flashed one last goodbye smile to Peter, leaving him alone with his aunt.

“Peter…” she began when they were alone, her voice cracking obviously.

“May….” He said assuredly. He knew where this was going. “I’m just going for the week, don’t be sad.”

“I know, but you’re just so grown up and now you’re a graduate and I just can’t belie—“ she paused, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks as she put her hands on her nephew’s face. “Your—your parents, they would be so, so proud of you Peter,” she nearly whispered.

Peter swallowed hard. “I’m so proud of you,” she continued. “You know that right? You know how much I love you?”

“Of course, May,” he answered, and she drew him in tightly for a hug. What did he do to deserve Aunt May?

“Now go get some sleep, and make sure you’re well rested, okay? And be safe, please. Tony said he would call me if there were any injuries or accidents, and I promise I won’t freak out, but I want to be in the loop with that kind of stuff, okay? And also, don’t forget to stretch before you…”

“Okay May,” Peter jokingly groaned. “I’ll be fine, but thank you.” He ushered her toward the door. “I love you.” They kissed each other goodbye, and he continued to wave as she walked to the car, turning to stare back at him every few seconds. He was standing in the doorway only a few seconds after they had driven away when two hands landed on his shoulders.

“You ready, grad? Let me show you to your room.” Tony squeezed his shoulders excitedly.

Peter patted the duffle and flashed a thumbs up. He had never stayed overnight at the facility, even after countless suit updates and training days these past few years. And the best part? This room was his to keep. At least, soon it would be.

Tony spared no expense, he saw. The room was decked out fully with a TV, walk in closet, bath tub, and video game console.

“Oh man, Tony, you did _not_ have to...” Peter didn’t finish the sentence, his eyes crossing over the expanse of the giant room. He looked up at a ladder next to his King-sized bed, leading to a loft that extended to the high ceiling.

“I wasn’t sure about the ladder, I mean you can climb skyscrapers so what’s 15 feet, but anyway…what do ya think? It’ll work?” Tony asked expectantly.

“It’s great.” Peter responded. He set his duffle down at the foot of the bed.

“Well, FRIDAY knows where to find me if you need anything. It’s been a busy day so nothing’s slotted for tomorrow morning except breakfast in the common room, so come on down whenever you wake up.” Peter nodded his head.

“And kid?” Tony paused as he reached the door. “Congrats.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter answered as he exited the room. "Tony" still felt so weird to say, but he had insisted Peter ditch the “Mr. Stark” business…

As soon as the door closed, Peter spun around one more time to look at the room. Shaking his head in disbelief, he let a giant smile cross his face and plopped down on his bed.

“Shall I turn off the lights, Mr. Parker?” FRIDAY asked, catching Peter off-guard.

“Uhh, sure. It’s been a long day, FRIDAY. Also, you can call me Peter.”

“Goodnight Peter.”

“Goodnight FRIDAY.” Peter said. As the light dimmed, under his breath he continued, “My life is great.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, here comes the drama...Plus what I imagine Avengers training camp to look like. Thanks for the feedback everyone! Please keep it coming!

He woke up confused. Where was he? What was on top of him?

As the confusion began to turn into panic, FRIDAY’s voice echoed around him.

“Good morning Peter. The time is 10:42AM. The current temperature is 82 degrees. You have nothing on your schedule until 3PM.”

Oh, that’s right. He was drowning in a comforter that probably cost more than the contents of his entire room back in Queens.

“10:42…Man. Is breakfast still happening?” Peter asked sluggishly, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, Tony is waiting for you in the kitchen, and the Avengers are currently in the common room.”

Peter got to his feet and pulled on clothes for the day. Once he had finished hurriedly getting ready, he headed out the door and down the hallway, past Vision’s room and to the elevator. He was neighbors to Vision and Tony Stark—no big deal, he thought.

His room was the only one that directly connected with Tony’s apartment, which spanned a few floors beside Peter. He’d been inside a few times, but now that they were neighbors, he’d have to ask Tony for a more extensive tour of the place. Maybe he’d let him check out those cars, too…

The elevator beeped and Peter got off in the main common area, comprised of a kitchen, tables, and a couch area. Tony stood leaning against the kitchen island, coffee in hand and tablet in the other. Steve, Clint, Bruce, Natasha, Vision, and Wanda sat around the couches. Rhodey and Sam were playing cards at one of the tables.

Peter did a double take. He’d relaxed with the Avengers before, but the reality that this was his new normal seemed to only just now sink in.

Tony noticed him standing frozen outside the elevator. “Hey, look who’s up,” he remarked.

The crew sent a chorus of “good mornings” his way, and Vision stood up and walked toward Peter.

“Mr. Parker, we have a great selection of breakfast items this morning. Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Of course the kid’s hungry, he’s got like a super metabolism,” Clint noted from the couch.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Natasha added. “Our cook doesn’t necessarily have taste buds.”

“No worries, it’s been thoroughly taste tested, and I think it’s completely safe,” Bruce said with a full mouth, nodding to three empty plates on the table next to his seat.

Peter spent the next hour loading up plate after plate of waffles (in the shape of an arc reactor—he wondered whose idea that had been), bacon, bagels, fruit, and yogurt.

“I bet you’d crush it in a hotdog eating competition, dude,” Sam joked as Peter scraped the last crumbs off of his fourth serving.

“Alright team,” Steve began, rising to interrupt the various conversations scattered across the room. “Today we kick off training. As you can expect, this week will be action-packed and anything but easy, but especially as we welcome a new team member,” Steve paused to smile in Peter’s direction. “We need to be on the same page now if we want our missions to succeed later on.

“We’ll start off with equipment updates tonight, and ease into things. But tomorrow morning, combat training in the field house will start at 6AM sharp. After a few days in the field house and the gym, we’re going to run through battle simulations indoors and outdoors. Teams will be posted in the equipment room every morning. Battle plans will be discussed both before and after each sim. After the sim, make sure you’re reviewing your errors. See where your team thrived, and where you let the other guys get the best of you. Take it easy, but don’t hold back. Help each other out, point out weaknesses, and above all, communicate.” Steve paused for dramatic effect.

“Any questions?”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Man, Cap was good at this, Peter thought.

As the team broke into side conversations, Peter was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

“C’mon kid, I wanna show you something.” Tony was waving him toward the elevator.

“Sure, what?” Peter asked.

“Graduation present.” Tony smirked as the elevator ascended.

 

“Mr. Stark—I mean Tony. This is…this is…wow.” Peter looked down at his arms and torso. Slowly, he spun around.

“Well, it’s not a surprise, but I added some things since we last talked. Hopefully it’ll get the job done.” Tony said with a shrug.

Peter still stood speechless, looking up and down his body.

“Wanna try the mask?”

“Uh duh,” Peter responded immediately. Tony handed him the mask, and as he slid it on, it sealed with an unfamiliar click.

“Welcome Peter!” Karen greeted enthusiastically.

“Hey Karen, sick suit huh?”

“It is very nice, Peter. Don’t forget to run an Introduction Course to familiarize yourself with your new suit functions,” she informed him cheerily.

“Later, Karen, I’m takin’ it in now!” Peter said in awe.

“The Puberty Protocol is in place until the completion of this course, Peter.” Karen dutifully reminded him.

“Puberty?! Are you kidd—“ Peter began to turn toward Tony.

“Think fast.”

Before he knew it, a screwdriver was being hurled toward his chest. Instinctively, Peter shot his webs toward the ceiling, springing upward and twirling upside down just in time to miss the screwdriver’s landing. As it whirled past him, he shot another web that way, retrieving it and pulling it into his hands.

Everything was sharp and clear. He felt a little heavier, sure, but he also felt completely guarded by the metal shell around him. He couldn’t wait to see everything this suit could do. Bulletproof, waterproof, impact resistant…these were a few nifty tricks to have up his sleeve from now on.

“It looks good on you kid.” Tony nodded.

“Bet you never expected your suit to be part of a matching set, huh?” Peter joked, looking down at the red and gold vibranium encasing him.

“Sure didn’t,” Tony responded. There were a lot of things he didn’t expect when it came to this kid.

 

“Peter, you must report to the field house in ten minutes.” FRIDAY repeated loudly. “Mr. Stark has requested I enable the threat alarm and fire sprinklers if you don’t get out of bed in the next sixty seconds.”

Peter groaned. He look at his watch: 5:50AM. Was he supposed to be some—“Oh shoot.” His eyes shot open.

“Activating sprinklers in 10, 9—“

“FRIDAY wait wait wait I’m up, see!!” Peter grabbed his web shooters from the bedside table as he tripped over the sweatpants he haphazardly pulled up while walking to the bathroom. A quick rinse of his face and a ten second teeth brushing session later, he was out the door, running past Tony and Vision’s apartments and through the kitchen.

Eying a bag of bagels on the counter as he ran, he snatched it toward himself with his web shooters and hurried toward the elevator.

As he opened the bag and waited on the elevator, his foot nervously tapped. “Come ON,” he groaned. Turning around he spotted the field house across the compound. Surveying the surrounding trees and structures, he turned and ran toward the balcony door. Holding the bagel bag in his teeth, he took off between the buildings, swinging toward the field house in seconds.

Snagging a tree limb, he swiftly jumped down to the entrance of the field house, landing next to Clint and Natasha who had just arrived.

“Cutting it close, huh, new guy?” Clint said as Peter stumbled toward them, out of breath, still clutching bagels in his mouth.

“What is this?” Tony emerged from the entryway to the field house, a large opening leading to warehouse-like room with a track, obstacle course, punching bags, and more.

Peter removed the bagels from his mouth and ran his hand through his disheveled hair.

“I, uh. I…”

“Where’s your suit, kid?” Natasha asked.

 _Oh crap_. Peter’s eyes widened. Where did he leave the Iron Spider suit? He was going to be so in trouble… “I, um, I can, I can go look for it, but I—“

“Relax stutter muffin, today’s hand to hand combat, she’s just messing with you. The suit’s in the gear room for later.” Tony said.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief and the nearby Avengers chuckled.

As 6AM rolled around, the entire team stood in the field house. _Man, that was close_ , Peter thought as he ate another bagel.

 

It was Day 1 of outdoor battle sims. They were in a forest near the Avengers facility, teams divided into 2 based on performance evals from the past few days. They were split just about evenly between fliers and hand-to-hand experts.

Peter had struggled at first—in every department. His endurance was worse than everyone’s (except Scott, God bless Scott). Super humans were a lot harder to best than NYC thugs. On top of that, Peter’s new suit—as awesome as it was—took some getting used to.

Karen had finally bugged him enough about the intro course, so now he was just starting to get the hang of things. Yesterday, indoor sims had been his strongest display of skill. Using the newfound defenses of his suit, and better accustomed to the added bulkiness, he had outshot Hawkeye, leaving him webbed to the field house wall for a few minutes.

The Avengers were impressed. So impressed that Steve had decided to split him and Tony up. He wanted to test Peter’s grit against Iron Man—metal to metal. The other Avengers were mainly eager to see if Tony had developed a soft spot for the kid. They knew they’d get their answer in this showdown.

The teams had set up camps on opposite ends of the forest. In addition to putting their fighting skills into practice, this was also an opportunity to perfect survival skills. A few MREs and fairly extensive knowledge of wilderness survival were keeping both teams well-fed and relatively well-functioning.

Peter was keeping watch over the camp. He and Hawkeye both shared the shift. No one talked, but the sound of owls hooting and the glow of the cooling fire embers kept Peter occupied. He checked his heads-up display. 4:03AM. Only 57 minutes left go… _Great_ , he thought, clicking the side of his neck and letting his helmet piece fold into his suit.

Beside him, Bruce snored. Peter wondered why he was here. No way would Cap let him go all Hulk on them…right? Surely he was here just to observe. Peter looked at his sleeping form, wondering how such a nice, little guy could ever become so angry and…well, not little.

He was called into the present moment by a chill down his spine. He heard a twig snap from about a football field away. This snap was different from the others he had been tuning out. This one was heavier, more sudden.

“Psssst.” He whispered to Hawkeye. “3 o’clock. 100 yards.” A rustle of leaves sounded to his left. “9 o’clock, same distance.”

Hawkeye stared at him in disbelief for a second, wondering how the kid could be so sure. But there was no question to his declaration, so Hawkeye nodded, grabbing a scope eyepiece from beside where he sat. The scope glowed green onto his eyes as he locked it into place.

Peter watched on silently as he drew an arrow and pulled back the bow string. Silence. Hawkeye didn’t move. Peter didn’t breathe.

And then….snap. The whirl of the arrow was met by a distant thud on the right. To Peter’s left, the rusting of leaves quickened, joined with hushed and panicked whispers. It only took a few seconds for Hawkeye to aim his next shot. Except this time, he missed, the arrow splintering as it struck a tree trunk.

He cursed under his breath. “I can do it!” Peter said, his mask already folding down over his face.

“Meet you at the forest edge?” Peter said, as Hawkeye nodded and went to wake the others resting at the camp.

Peter took off swinging through the trees. The density of the forest was a little tricky to navigate, but otherwise, this was his terrain. He could perch and swing wherever he pleased. And the other team knew it, too. He suspected that’s why they had chosen to set up camp in a wide open field.

As Peter swung, he heard the distance between him and his opponent quickly shrinking. He recognized the back of Wanda’s head before too long and took off toward the trees above her. Casting a web grenade in front of her steps, Peter watched as she turned to take note of him. As the web grenade exploded, she slashed it in half with a burst of red, then shot her blasts back toward him.

They were almost to the clearing, which meant trouble for Peter. Unless…

He let Wanda get right to the edge of the tree line, then, shooting webs to the one of the last trees, he took off—swinging nearly a complete circle around the tree and through the edge of the open field until he rounded back toward Wanda, facing her and the forest behind her head on. He stuck out his feet, released his grip on the webs, and BANG. He felt his feet make contact with her torso, sending her reeling backwards.

“Ooh, man that was harder than I thought, sorry Wanda.”

“No apologizing,” Natasha said over the comms.

“The fliers are about to gain the upper ground, let’s move,” Clint urged. He was the team captain. “Looks like we’ve caught ‘em off guard, let’s proceed to the camp.”

“Sam, how about a lift?” Peter asked. Seconds later, the Falcon descended and scooped Peter up from behind. They flew above the clearing, headed toward the camp.

“3, 2, 1…” Sam said. “See ya,” he laughed as he dropped Peter from their altitude. Peter spread his arms, activating his gliders. He’d only used them on the new suit once…he sure hoped he could stick this landing. He was nearly to the camp. He could see the other team scrambling to get organized. Captain America just sat there, it looked like. What was he doing? Just a few more seconds and…

BOOM. The blast from Iron Man’s repulsors sent him off balance and Peter spiraled to an abrupt stop, skidding across the dirt.

“You ok, kid?” Tony asked, as he landed a distance away from Peter.

“Never better,” Peter responded as he stood to his feet. One on one with Iron Man in an open field. Oh boy.

“Good,” Tony responded, sending another repulsor blast his way. Peter ducked and dodged, taking advantage of Tony’s delay between fires.

Momentarily, Tony’s attention turned away. He pressed his hand to his ear, as if listening to the heads-up. _Rookie mistake_ , Peter thought. But he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity, not even against Tony. A lot of eyes were on him today.

He shot rapid-fire at the joints of the suit and the repulsor emission points. One after another, web covered Tony’s armor. It was like he wasn’t even fighting.

…he wasn’t. He wasn’t moving, Peter noted. His hand remained pressed against his helmet. What was he doing…?

Suddenly, with a blast of something from inside his suit, Tony shook off most of the webs, turned to face Peter, and removed his helmet.

“Tony?” Peter asked, stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you doing, man?”

He looked worried.

“Peter…” He rarely used his name. It was always Spidey, or kid, or some snarky nickname. Peter was so confused.

“Sim’s over, everyone. Stand down.” Cap’s voice boomed through everyone’s comms. All around him, Peter watched the Avengers disarm, looking equally as confused.

“Get to the jet.” Cap commanded.

 

Peter didn’t understand what was happening. Steve and Tony had ushered him off to the plane and spent the rest of the ride to the compound whispering near the cockpit. As Peter stepped off the jet, Steve called for everyone’s attention.

“Conference room in 5. Get your gear off, then head straight over.” The other Avengers, seemingly just as lost as Peter, did as they were told. Peter followed them.

“Not you.” Steve said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this. Rest up. Good work today, Peter.”

Peter thought about protesting, but Steve wasn’t asking him to stay; he was commanding it. He stood dumbfounded as Steve continued on past him.

“I’m gonna need your phone, kid.” Tony said, coming up to him from out of nowhere.

“Why?” Peter asked defensively. He felt more comfortable asking Tony what the heck was going on.

“Gotta add some updates, some safety features. It’s the new suit and all, and so yeah, just gimme a bit with it.”

“But what does my phone have to do with the suit?” Peter pressed.

“Peter. Phone, now.” Tony held his hand out. Peter gave up…

It was an awkwardly silent trip to the gear room, and even worse as he rode the elevator alone back to his room. The empty hallways left him questioning what could possibly be happening. Surely, there was some disaster. But why was everyone still here then? Peter was naturally not invited because he was new and untrained. But why did they need his phone? He knew better than to buy the upgrade story.

Whatever. He was tired from the week’s work, so maybe he should just appreciate the rest.

“FRIDAY, do you know what’s going on?” Peter asked as he set down his bags in his room.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” she responded mysteriously.

Peter sighed. “Fine.” He hopped in the shower and then closed his eyes for a quick daytime nap.

 

The hairs on Peter’s arms stood up straight. “…convict known by the alias of Scorpion is believed to have been among those who escaped last evening…” Peter stirred in his bed.

“…a dangerous leader of a New York crime ring apprehended nearly three years ago by a joint FBI and Avengers effort…” Where was that noise coming from? It seemed far away.

“…plots foiled on the ferry in New York City by Spider-Man’s daring intervention and Iron Man’s quick thinking…” It was the TV in the conference room. He caught glimpses of Captain’s voice. Why were they talking about the ferry incident?

“…any information on Gargan or his associates, the police ask that you please…” Gargan. Escaped. The scrambled words began to click.

Mac Gargan was a violent criminal. Mac Gargan had been put in jail by Spider-Man. Mac Gargan hated Spider-Man. Mac Gargan was out of prison.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare yourselves. It's hard to write intense action scenes, but hopefully the chaos of the writing accurately portrays the chaos of the battle itself!

Peter busted into the conference room, still barely awake. It was about half full of the Avengers team.

“Peter!” Steve said with a start. “I thought you were sleeping.” He stood in front of the screen, leading what seemed to be a presentation to the other members.

Bruce turned off the TV with a subtle tap on the tablet before him. But the damage had been done.

“The news. Did you hear? He, he was the one on the ferry, and they said he, he wanted me dead, and…”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Peter. Breathe,” Bruce urged him, standing to look him in the eyes.

“May,” Peter gasped. “Check on May. And Ned. Ned's about to leave for Hawaii. And MJ. What if he knows? Do you think he knows? Where’s Mr. Stark?”

“Peter. We’re on top of it,” Cap interjected. “We’re sorry—we didn’t want you to find out like this. We’re handling it, and pretty soon he’ll be back locked up where he belongs.”

Peter breathed ragged breaths. “What are we doing? What’s the plan? Does he know? Does he know who I am?”

“Peter, don’t worry about it, we’ve got it covered,” Bruce tried to convince him. Rhodes looked around nervously between the three.

“It’s okay, Banner. He should know,” Steve said after some hesitation, directing his attention to Peter. “Peter.” He hesitated. “It’s likely he knows. Adrian Toomes was found dead in his cell yesterday. Tony is with your Aunt May. Hawkeye is with Ned. Natasha has got MJ. They’re going to be okay, son. Sam is out tracking Gargan’s movements now.”

 _Liz_ , Peter thought. He calmed his racing thoughts by thinking about Ned’s reaction to having Hawkeye as a personal body guard. But then he remembered the threat.

“What can I do?” he asked eagerly.

“You need to stay here. You’ll only make yourself a target if you go looking for him. Here, at least we know he can’t get to you.” Steve asserted.

“But—” Peter pleaded.

“No but’s. That’s an order.” Steve interrupted.

 _Infuriating_ , Peter thought. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened and he was stuck in his room, safe and sound. But he listened, for now at least. His friends were safe, in the hands of the Avengers. Maybe it would all be over soon.

 

But it wasn’t. It had been almost a whole day with his friends on lockdown. He couldn’t talk to them, and he had heard no new updates on Gargan’s location. Peter was going crazy. He had been relatively calm, all things considered, after his conversation in the conference room. But that had only lasted an hour or two, at most. In the middle of the night, after repeated check-ins with Steve and Banner who had reported no news (and some futile research of his own with Karen), Peter gave up on trying to sleep.

In the common room, Peter poured himself a glass of water.

“What are you doing up, son?” Steve stepped around the corner, causing Peter to nearly drop the glass of water as he jumped.

“Captain, I—uh, well…” He figured he didn’t need to explain himself.

Without a word, Steve reached out and put his hand on the back of Peter’s neck. “It’s going to be okay, son.”

Peter normally would’ve put on a brave face, especially for the captain. But maybe because it was 3AM, and maybe because he was just plain scared, he found his façade crumbling.

“I feel…so helpless. It’s—it’s all my fault. Toomes, that’s Liz’s dad. And now, now…” He whispered.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know the feeling. But trust me—trust us. Our whole goal in this mission is to keep them safe, and to keep you safe.” Captain paused. “We won’t let you down, Peter. It stops here.”

Peter nodded. He was right. He and his loved ones were in the best of hands. In typical Peter fashion, however, he found something else to beat himself up about. “I’m sorry to interrupt training with all of this.” He continued. “You guys fight aliens and gods, but now I’ve got you cleaning up my messes with this whole thing.”

Steve cut him off. “Don’t apologize. A real mission is the best training we could get. Besides, you’re a part of the team. A threat against you is a threat against all of us. He’s a criminal, sure, but hopefully we’re dealing with nothing more than a street thug crime boss. We’ve seen worse, kid.” Steve assured him.

As if right on cue, FRIDAY came on over the PA, speaking urgently to Cap. “Captain, an urgent message from Sam.”

“Go ahead, FRIDAY.” Cap said, already taking off toward the conference room. Peter followed, adrenaline pulsing.

In the elevator, Sam’s voice rang out. “Steve, I’ve got eyes on Gargan. He’s been spotted headed toward Queens.” Peter’s breath caught in his throat.

“It gets worse, Cap. There’s a problem.” The elevator doors opened and they continued into the conference room, where Bruce stood waiting, a concerned look etched on his face. Behind him, on the screen, was footage of a hooded character sporting a menacing metal…tail?

“He’s got powers. He’s got some kinda Scorpion tail now. It’s powered by Chitauri gear, and it’s not lookin’ pretty.” Sam’s voice boomed through the room.

“Where the hell did he get that?” Bruce asked.

“Looks like the Vulture’s weapons ring didn’t quite die out,” Cap commented. “Sam, keep up the surveillance. FRIDAY, get the team on the comms,” After debriefing Tony, Clint, and Natasha, Cap instructed FRIDAY to fill in the rest of the Avengers, sleeping throughout the facility.

After what seemed like ages of watching and waiting, Clint’s voice broke through the comms. Peter sat, still and terrified. “We’ve got movement near the Leeds residence. I may need backup.” That was all he had to say. Peter stopped breathing.

Captain hesitated. The sound of an explosion rippled through Clint’s feed. “Hawkeye, update?” Cap asked immediately.

“Backup now, Ned is the target, I repeat Ned is the target.” Clint said urgently.

“Stark, how quickly can you be there?” Cap asked.

“On my way now.”

“Me too,” Natasha chimed in.

A few seconds passed with silence until another explosion rocked through the comms. But this time it came from Natasha’s feed. Wait.. something was wrong.

“Natasha, turn back,” Sam yelled. “Target is approaching your location. Go back.”

“Something’s not right,” Clint responded. “How are we both under attack? There’s only one hostile.”

“Where am I headed, someone give me the game plan?” Tony asked nervously.

Cap was about to chime in, when a scream echoed through the comms. Peter knew that scream. MJ.

“The girl’s down,” Nat yelled suddenly. Iron Man rocketed off toward their location.

“Medical services are on the way,” Cap added. “Sam, what’s going on? What are we looking at?” Cap was panicked. Peter could sense it. He felt like throwing up.

A thud erupted from Clint’s comms. “I need backup here, the kid is down.”

“Ned!” Peter yelled. His vision was swimming.

All of the sudden, from Sam’s aerial view, the room watched as two armor-clad men rocketed away from Clint and Natasha’s locations.

“There's two assailants, none of them's the Scorpion dude. They both got wings, and they’re gone.” Sam reported. “Cap, what the hell is going on?”

“Why would they draw us out for such a short battle?” Bruce thought out loud.

“Draw us out…” Tony repeated. It dawned on them all.

“Who’s with May?” Cap said what they were all thinking. No one answered.

“On it.” Tony responded.

“Sam, give me eyes on May’s place. Nat, Clint, secure your respective perimeters. Rhodey, suit up and track the two assailants. FRIDAY, get Vision and Wanda in on this and send ‘em to Stark. Stark, Scorpion is likely headed your way.” . _..if he's not already there_ , they all thought. As Cap spoke, the team rushed off to fulfill their duties.

As the team rushed to their positions and the air calmed, Cap turned to address the one member of the team he’d forgotten. “Peter, you stay and—Peter?”

“Cap?” Tony asked, without hesitation, hearing his unfinished command. Steve turned to Bruce who shrugged his shoulders.

“FRIDAY, where’s Peter?” Steve asked.

“Peter is currently en route to Queens.” She repeated.

“Shit.” Tony said.

 

 

 

Tony and Peter were closing in on May’s location. Peter had never swung faster. His gasps of breath had nearly drowned out the sounds of the comms, but Stark knew he was still listening.

“Peter, don’t do this.” He urged him.

“I’m not going back,” he responded in ragged breaths.

Tony hesitated. “Sam, update?”

“Just now arriving, I’ve got signs of civilian distress in the apartment complex.”

“Sam, incoming, two dudes are hot on your tail.” Rhodey interrupted.

“Shit,” Sam dodged blasts from a two men donning vulture-like armored suits. Meanwhile, Tony blasted into May’s apartment.

Peter hardly heard the chaos that ensued.

“Sam is down, I repeat Sam is down.” Rhodey screamed. “I’m hit,” he added soon after.

“Clint, Natasha, do not abandon your positions,” Cap commanded.

“Peter? Peter?! Where’s Peter?” Tony yelled. “Where’s Peter?” Even louder this time. “Anyone have eyes on the kid? Keep him out, I repeat, keep him out.”

Peter ignored the sound of his name, he ignored the sense of panic in Tony’s voice. He was almost there…

Peter swung into his familiar living room window, glass shattering beneath the force of his feet. What he saw punched him in the gut harder than any bad guy ever could.

“No…no…” he muttered, the chaos in his brain finally settling as he took in the scene before his eyes. The comms weren’t muted, but they may as well have been. Peter couldn’t hear a thing, eyes fixated in disbelief on what lay before him… _who_ lay before him.

May, on the ground, red covering her white blouse, completely still. Completely…lifeless. And Tony, out of his suit, kneeling before her. His hands were covered in blood and rags sat bunched and bloodied beneath his fists. He looked down and away, avoiding eye contact with Peter.

“No,” he yelled this time. Tony could avoid it no more. He inhaled deeply, and steeled himself as he turned to look Peter in the eyes. The boy stood, weak and swaying, clutching his mask, eyes fixed on May.

“Peter…” Tony began. Peter crumbled to the floor, kneeling beside May opposite Tony. He searched for a pulse with one hand, while the other ran along her wound.

“May, May, listen…” he began through tears. “You’re, you’re okay. You’re—you’re gonna be okay. May?”

“Peter,” Tony said more forcefully this time.

“Help me—help me find a pulse, d-did you call m-medical services are they-are they on the way?” he stuttered.

“Peter,” Tony nearly yelled it this time. It was just enough to snap him out of it. Peter’s teary eyes met his. “There is no pulse.” He hated to say it, but Peter needed to hear it. “May’s dead, Peter.”

He abandoned any resolve to hold it together, and fell forward, embracing his aunt’s warm, still body. The sobs only intensified.

“Come on, come on buddy,” Tony said, nearly certain Peter wasn’t listening. Donning the suit, he gathered the limp teen into his arms and rocketed back toward the compound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WUMP. sorry...it had to be done. Update on Ned and MJ coming soon....


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this one-- I did a lot of really deep pondering of the character of Peter and how he would handle May's death. I wanted to make sure I didn't make too big of leaps with characters' interactions together in emotional scenes. Hopefully this focuses on relationships' development in a realistic but engaging way!

Tony just held him for a while as he cried, leaning slumped against the man’s chest on the common room couch. One by one, the members of the team returned, battle worn and sweaty, turning away and facing down at their feet when they saw the crying teen. They all stood in the common area, no one speaking.

“We need to debrief,” Cap said, defeated. Tony looked up at him and nodded questioningly toward the sobbing form tangled up beside him.

Peter interrupted Tony’s thoughts. “Ned, MJ—are they—are they…?” Peter barely managed to get out. Tony was surprised; he didn’t think Peter was taking in anything going on outside himself, let alone following along with conversation.

“Shh…” Tony assured him, as his cries intensified into panicked gasps. Tony was losing control of the situation. “Wanda?” he asked nervously. They all knew what came next.

Wanda winced as she reached into Peter’s tortured mind. Vision steadied her arm as she threatened to falter with the shock of his pain. After a quick recovery, she proceeded to calm him. The crying subsided and the gasps slowed. As Peter fell asleep, Tony laid him down across the couch and covered him with a blanket. Even lulled to sleep, he didn’t look peaceful.

The team ventured to the nearby table, Tony powering up the TV across the wall. None of them wanted to leave Peter like this, so the conference room could wait. As they took their seats, a horrid silence filled the air.

Clint was the first to speak. “What the hell happened out there?”

There was a pause. “We failed,” Tony answered, looking down at his hands.

“We—we underestimated our opponent. For the first and last time. We expected a street thug, alone but dangerous. Instead, we got three thugs, enhanced and really dangerous. Surprise and confusion were their greatest assets, but now they’ve lost those advantages.” Cap stated, trying his best to encourage his teammates. “Here’s what we know: Gargan’s got his tech from two allies known as the Shocker and Tinkerer, both of whom ran with Toomes a few years ago. They got away last time, but looks like they had no problem changing allegiances while their boss served his time.”

“Leads on location?” Banner asked.

“FRIDAY’s running surveillance.” Tony answered softly, his normal cheeriness gone.

“How are the friends?” Rhodey asked.

“MJ is hurt but stable.” Nat responded. “They just did enough damage to draw our attention. I don’t think they were out for blood.” Tony grimaced. “Well, at least not her blood,” she added.

“Ned’s gonna be okay. Basically the same deal. I think once they realized Peter wasn’t there, they made May the primary target.” Clint added.

“Tony,” Sam asked. Tony looked up for the first time all meeting. “Did you catch a glimpse of the Scorpion before the vulture dudes flew away with him?”

“Got a few repulsor blasts off at his tail but the thing absorbed the shots and he…well, I saw her and I decided not to pursue…” He looked distant. He said the words with tangible guilt.

“Do we know why Scorpion killed her? Was this just a make-it-personal play, or was he trying to find Peter’s whereabouts?” Banner asked.

“I say why not both,” Tony quickly added. “He saw the kid wasn’t there, he figured he’d do as much damage as he could anyway.”

“But now we’re on his trail.” Sam added.

“Exactly. What better way to draw an Avenger out of his safe house than to make it personal, to make him chase you?” Tony answered.

“He’s gotta know he’s barking up the wrong tree, though,” Rhodey commented. “Enhanced or not, this guy can’t hide from us.”

“That’s true,” Cap interjected. “But we won’t underestimate him again. I think it’s likely he came into this looking for Spider-Man, not thinking he’d get the whole package, too. After all, the news of Peter joining the team hasn’t been made public, yet. Which means we have the upper hand. But if an Avengers response surprised him, we can also expect he’s frantic. And frantic criminals get desperate and unpredictable.”

“Rookie mistake,” Tony said softly, shaking his head. “Rookie mistake,” he repeated this time yelling, as he stood from his chair. Peter stirred behind him. He closed his eyes slowly, calming himself down for Peter’s sake. In a whisper, he continued, “This shouldn’t have happened. We told him they’d be safe.”

No one answered. They all felt the same way.

 

Tony watched as Peter twitched. Wanda wandered up beside Tony, where he had sat for hours keeping vigil next to the couch. Peter moaned.

“I think I’m ready to let him wake up,” Tony said.

Wanda nodded, watching him toss and turn. She looked at Tony’s guilt-ridden face. “It was not your fault.” The comment caught him off guard. “At least, he doesn’t think so. He blames himself.” Tony kept looking at Peter’s face, scrunched with the increasingly painful awareness of the night’s events.

“Do you want to see what he is thinking?” Wanda asked him.

“I think I already know,” Tony responded. His mind flashed back to the footage from December 16th, 1991, and to the way he had received the news as a teenager that night.

His thoughts were interrupted by Peter’s sudden awakening. His eyes jerked open and he blinked wildly. “May,” he whispered raggedly. Tony could tell he was trying to decipher nightmare from reality. Too bad they were one and the same.

Eyes meeting Tony’s, Peter remembered. “Tony…” he choked.

“I know, buddy. I know.” His heart shattered at the sight of this fragile hero broken beside him.

 

 

Peter felt numb. At first, there had been a lot of crying. He was pretty sure he had soaked Tony’s shirt with his snot in those first few hours. But now, he was processing. Ned was safe, on his way to Hawaii with a guarded escort for good measure. MJ was even joining in to get them both as far away as possible. He hadn’t talked to them directly, but he had relayed a message to them: _I’m sorry to put you through this. I’ll do whatever I can to protect you two._ He hoped they got it. He hoped they were okay. Nobody would give him the whole story. Did they know about May?

Amid these questions, Tony had hardly left his side. He had practically carried him to his room and stayed there as he slept—or tried to sleep. The funny thing was, Peter wasn’t embarrassed. He was bawling like a baby in front of Tony Stark…and it seemed perfectly natural. Perhaps it was because Tony knew May better than the rest of the team, or perhaps it was because he had been there when it happened. Peter wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that he was unashamed of how lost he felt in front of Tony.

Peter felt like staying in his bed and sleeping all day. But that wouldn’t cut it, not when Gargan was still out there.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Hey.” Tony stood in the doorway. Peter looked down from the loft, where he sat upside down on the ceiling. “Mind coming down?” Tony continued.

With a few _thwips_ from the web shooters under Peter’s disheveled sweatshirt, he was standing in front of Tony.

“How about we sit?” Tony said. Peter was uncharacteristically quiet. But what did he have to say a few hours after…after _that_?

Peter sat down and leaned against the pillows of his bed, while Tony slowly settled into the edge of the mattress. He was deliberate, slow…cautious. Peter knew he was half expecting the kid to spontaneously combust. But he had decided the crying would need to stop. For now, at least. Peter had blood to avenge.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you. May’s funeral…it looks like we can’t make it work right now.” Tony hesitated, treading carefully. “It’s too much of a risk.”

Peter had expected as much. And it was okay…he had decided mourning May could wait until Gargan was dead.

“That’s fine,” Peter answered, his voice quiet. “…Do we have any leads?” Peter hesitated. “I want to help.” His voice cracked. “Please. Please let me help.”

“Peter,” Tony responded. “You just—are you sure you’re up for this? It’s okay if you’re not.”

“Yes.” He responded immediately. “What else can I do? Sit around and mope?”

Tony smiled at him. “That’s damn sure what I’d be doing. You got heart, kid.”

“So, leads? What’s the update?” Peter was getting excited. Tony was happy to see some of his normal enthusiasm return, albeit amid less than ideal circumstances.

“Slow down, eager beaver. Nothing yet, it’s been less than 24 hours.” Peter’s face sank. “But we’re working on it. Promise.”

 _Promise_. Those words brought back Tony’s guilt in a flash. He had promised…

“And kid…” Peter looked up. “Peter,” Tony corrected. This was a first-name conversation. “I’m…I’m sorry. I let you down. I should’ve…there’s a lot of things I should’ve done differently last night. And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that.”

Peter didn’t say a word. But he looked at Tony and nodded. His eyes tearing up, he finally spoke. “Yep. I know, I know Mr. Stark.” He gulped, holding back the tears and subtly shaking his head to snap himself out of it.

Tony instinctively reached his hand onto the kid’s back. “What is this Mr. Stark bullshit?”

Tony sighed in relief inside when Peter laughed. “Language!” Right on cue Steve walked into the room.

“Alright…” Tony said with feigned aggravation, rolling his eyes and smiling down at the kid.

“Peter,” Steve said, changing tones. “We’ve got developments. I want to fill you in.”

Peter sat up in a flash. “Easy tiger,” Tony immediately commented, rising to come closer to Peter. He stayed that way, inches from Peter’s side, as the two followed Steve out of the room, into the elevator, and toward the conference room.

Peter wasn’t okay; of that, Tony was sure. But he had that familiar skip in his step again as he bounded after Steve. His eyes were aglow with passion and purpose, even if their light had gone out for the moment.

 

 

“You sure you up for this?” Tony asked him quietly. He and Peter sat in the back of the conference room. A picture of Gargan flashed upon the screen as the team gathered in for the morning debriefing.

“He doesn’t scare me,” Peter answered resolutely.

Being a part of the mission made things exponentially better. It was a distraction, and it was a way to feel useful, to feel like Peter was actually avenging May’s death. He also admitted that it was good that it drew him out of his room. Being with the team made him feel almost normal. But he knew he wasn’t. He knew the way they looked at him, as if waiting for him to explode at the next mention of Gargan’s name.

“Here ya go, kid,” Clint said, handing Peter a bag of bagels. Peter snapped out of it, looking up at Clint’s smirking expression. He snagged the seat next to Peter and scraped off the remnants of breakfast on his plate.

Tony had already made sure Peter ate, but Peter appreciated the food (and joke) nonetheless. He snacked on the bagels throughout the debriefing. 6AM meetings were rough, especially with as little sleep as he was getting.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get started,” Steve said, standing at the front of the table. “Thanks to FRIDAY’s surveillance efforts and Sam’s recon, we’ve got eyes on a potential home base for the assailants. It’s a district we can track them to, not a specific building, so we’ve still got some work to do.”

“They laying low?” Rhodey asked.

“It looks like it,” Steve answered. “There hasn’t been much trouble since the…incident.” Awkward silence. Peter fidgeted. Tony’s mouth twitched. “My guess,” Steve continued, recovering composure, “is that they’re reformulating. Scorpion recruited these guys from Toomes with one goal in mind: contending with Spider-Man. But we have to remember, these are techies and thugs, not mass murderers. The two grunts followed Toomes into a heist, and they signed up to follow Gargan to revenge, but I’m not so sure they’d follow him into war. Especially not against the Avengers.”

Peter mulled over Cap’s observations. He had a point. They were salvagers looking to make money. They weren’t cruel, not like Gargan. So why had they even joined? Maybe Gargan had the most money. Maybe it was the allure of a challenge like designing the Chitauri tail. Who knows. But Steve was right—they were probably realizing this wasn’t what they signed up for.

“So how do we separate the two thugs from Scorpion?” Peter asked.

The whole room was surprised.

“Good question, Peter.” Steve responded after a brief hesitation. “We need a battle plan. But first, we need to find them. Tony?” Steve nodded in his direction.

With a click of a screen, Tony brought schematics onto the screen before them. “This is a live model of the district. Right now, we’ve got access to every camera we can—security, phones, laptops. It’s screening for any of the three thugs.”

“Tony and Peter, you two will keep tabs on our surveillance footage, as well as direct Sam remotely. Sam, I’m sending you, Clint, and Natasha into the district for recon. As soon as we narrow down their location, we’ll be sending in myself, Rhodey, and Wanda.”

Peter tensed. _Why couldn’t he go?_ Tony met his gaze, and nodded at him knowingly. A conversation for later…

“Vision and Bruce will be here keeping us posted on new developments,” Cap continued. “When we find them—which we will—we’ll target our efforts on the Shocker and Tinkerer. Capture, if possible. As long as we can keep them grounded, they shouldn’t slip away this time.”

“What about Gargan?” Peter asked, his voice defensive and wavering slightly as he said the man’s name.

“We don’t know his full abilities, but without his right hand men’s wings, he’ll be limited.” Steve answered. “We’ll take care of it, Peter.”

That was as much detail as he would get, it seemed.

“Any questions?” Steve paused. No one jumped in. “Recon team, gear up.” With that, they scattered. Hawkeye’s playful demeanor had all but faded as he nodded goodbye at Peter and headed toward the gear room.

“Peter?” Tony caught him as they walked out, pulling him aside in the hallway. “You know why you’re grounded right?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I know…a target. I just—I just want to be there.”

“And you will be. You’re part of the mission. But you’re with me. Here. Ok?” Tony spoke delicately, but Peter could tell this issue wasn’t up for debate. He nodded, and they continued to Tony’s lab to run through the surveillance footage.

Gargan was out there. Peter knew he had to stop him. How exactly, he was still trying to figure out…But if combing through surveillance footage was all he had at the moment, he’d take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd y'all think? At first I had Peter mulling in bed for a few days before Steve got him involved in the mission, but then I realized that Peter Parker wouldn't stand on the sidelines if the killer was roaming free. He seems like the fake it til you make it, avenge-May type, eh? After all, he is the newest Avenger... next chapter coming soon!


	5. Chapter 5

Peter wandered through the bot room. Empty shells of the Iron Man suit stood dark and lifeless beside him.

“Upload complete,” Karen’s voice rang through the darkened room. Peter removed the flash drive from the control center, looking around as he placed it in his pocket. Nothing. Phew. Now if he could just get up to the lab, no one would even notice he had been here…

“Peter…” Tony’s voice rang out questioningly. “Whatcha doing down here?”

 _Crap_. Tony approached him from the dark corner of the room.

“Uhh….nothing.” he stammered.

“Is that so?” Tony quipped. He sounded too cocky. Peter knew he was screwed. “Because FRIDAY tells me otherwise.”

Peter looked down, mind running through all the possible excuses he could toss out. FRIDAY wasn’t supposed to be reporting on Peter’s every move. It wasn’t in the protocol, at least last time he had checked. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. _Stupidly_. He thought. _Why hadn’t he thought this far ahead??_

“What’d you take Peter?” Tony asked, softly this time.

“I—uh, I just wanted some more information, that’s all.” Peter responded, still avoiding looking up.

“Peter. You know---“ Red sirens interrupted his statement.

“Boss, Captain Rogers reports enemy contact on recon team. Sending security footage and coordinates to heads-up now.” FRIDAY’s voice rang out.

“FRIDAY, are the three of them on their way?” Tony responded, instantly serious as he looked at the screen on his glasses lens. As if right on cue, Rhodey rocketed off outside. Followed by Cap piloting the quinjet with Wanda in tow. Tony rushed off to the conference room. Hoping he had forgotten, Peter quietly slinked away in the opposite direction.

“You—“ Tony turned abruptly to address Peter sternly. “Stay in this wing. We’ll finish this later.”

Peter’s jaw tensed as Tony charged out of the room and up the stairs.

Kicking the cabinet beside him, Peter let out a frustrated groan. “Enough of this crap,” he mumbled to himself. “Karen, start it up.”

He shed his baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, revealing the Iron Spider suit beneath. Keeping the helmet folded into the armor, he turned to face the row of Iron Man shells. One stood, staring back at him, eyes aglow.

 

It sure didn’t fit. But it just had to make it twenty minutes. He could control it for twenty minutes.

“Where would you like to go?” Karen’s voice asked through the heads-up.

“The coordinates FRIDAY just sent to Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered, jaw still clenched.

“Okay!” Karen answered cheerily. She was unaware of the crime against her creator she was committing. But Peter had figured as much—that was the whole point of the hack. “Setting a course now.”

 

Bruce sat beside Tony in the conference room. “Steve, have we got ‘em or not?” Tony asked with exasperation.

Sounds of punching and grunting filled the room for a minute more. Finally, there was silence.

“We’ve got them.” Steve gasped. “Clint, come around with the quinjet and pick these two up. We need to get them out of here asap. Rhodey, Sam, escort them to the holding rooms at the compound.”

The team followed the orders barked through the comms.

“Cap, we still don’t have eyes on the Scorpion.” Natasha reminded him. Tony paced in the conference room.

“Do you need backup or not? It sure seems like you guys need backup.” He snapped.

“Tony, we told you it was handled. Why are you still coming, man?” Rhodey answered.

Tony paused and looked at Bruce. “Uh, I’m not coming.” He answered.

“That’s not what the radar says,” Steve chimed in.

Tony clicked a button to pull the radar to the screen.

“Mark 11 inbound” FRIDAY reported with glee.

Tony froze. “That little turd…”

“Steve, the kid’s in the suit. FRIDAY, disengage Mark 11, send it back.” Tony barked.

“Authorization required.” FRIDAY responded.

“To hell with authorization, I’m ordering you, turn it around.” He practically spat.

“Authorization denied. You do not have access to this suit.” FRIDAY reported without emotion.

“Damnit…” Tony cursed. “Bruce, take over here.”

Within seconds, he had donned his suit and was taking off after Peter.

 

The landing had been anything but smooth. Peter had made sure to disable tracking as he arrived in the abandoned warehouse.

 _Why’s it always gotta be creepy warehouses?_   _What's wrong with a cool garden or a zoo or something?_ He thought to himself. He had left the Iron Man suit outside, fearing that Stark would figure out a way to regain control of the Mark 11 and get in the way.

As he entered the warehouse’s walls, his train of thought was distracted by a glowing figure emerging from the shadows. Metal doors slid around the walls, locking loudly and enclosing the two in the warehouse.

“Too easy, Peter Parker. Too easy.” The Scorpion’s words sent a chill down Peter’s spine. “Where are your friends?”

“It’s just you and me, Gargan. Let’s settle this.” Peter responded with determination. His eyes switched from white to red. Without warning, he shot a web toward Gargan. It exploded into flames as Gargan swatted it away with his glowing tail.

“What happened to friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? That was a kill shot.” Gargan snickered.

“Yeah, well sorry but I don’t play nice with people who kill my family.” Peter’s voice faltered, despite his tough façade.

“Oh yeah, what was her name? Your aunt? I’m sorry about that, truly. She just wouldn’t cooperate. It was all too easy to slash her in half. You should’ve seen the way she gawked at me when the blood started to flow. You should have seen the horror in her face when I killed her--“

Gargan didn’t finish. Peter was screaming, running toward him blasting shot after shot of web bombs. The explosions shook the building as Scorpion batted them away, blow for blow.

“Struck a nerve, did I?” he managed to get out between shots. As Peter grew closer, Scorpion padded his tail against the ground and was swept upward and toward Peter. He landed with a spin, knocking Peter sideways with a blow from his tail. Peter skidded against the floor, slowing to a stop in the middle of the warehouse.

As he struggled to regain his senses, Scorpion lept once more toward him. The end of his tail launched violently into Peter’s abdomen, the hook denting his armor. Three more strikes followed, accompanied by blasts from the Chitauri tail. Gargan was targeting his armor’s weak spots, and Peter wasn’t familiar enough with the tech to know how to protect them. He curled up, and for a second he considered turning on his comms again.

 _Clink_. The fifth blow from Scorpion’s tail blast landed at the junction of Peter’s helmet and suit. The helmet popped off, disconnected from the rest of the armor.

 _Well, so much for the comms…_ Peter thought. His unprotected head evaluated Gargan’s position, standing over him, tail raised.

“You’re a young little asshole. I can’t wait to watch you die.” Gargan spat, touching his face as if evaluating it.

Swiftly, Peter swept his feet through Gargan’s legs, causing him to stumble for just long enough to slide back and away. Peter shot his webs to the ceiling and launched himself into the rafters.

“Good one. Good one, little punk.” He laughed from below. “But here’s the thing. As I drove a knife into Toomes’ gut, he told me a little something. He told me about your little trauma. I bet that leaves some scars, eh? Some PTSD?” Gargan reached into his pocket and pulled out an explosives trigger. Without hesitation, he pressed the button, and the rafters holding Peter began to shake. One by one, the support beams blew.

 _Not again._ Peter panicked.

The beam supporting his web splintered, and Peter was sent flying to the ground beneath him. He shot webs out in every direction, but they wouldn’t land. He halted with a thud, his head hitting the cement with violent force.

“Ughhh,” he groaned, his vision momentarily gone. Suddenly, Gargan was on top of him, grabbing him by the exposed throat, his glowing tail looming aggressively behind him.

“The scorpion’s a cousin of the spider, ya know? I feel like we’ve got a connection kid. We’re both just two pests in the world trying to make it by the skin of our teeth, eh?” Peter tried to fight back but he couldn’t breathe. The ceiling above him began to break, segments falling all around him. “Well, sorry kid, but looks like it’s you who’s gotta go, not me.” Peter watched as the tail glowed brighter and grew higher above his face, preparing for a strike. His vision once again flickered, as he gasped for air.

_So this is it. This is how I’ll go out fighting. This is how I avenge what he did to May…_

Peter hesitated. _No. Not today_.

With all the strength he had left, he curled his feet into his stomach and kicked up, forcing Scorpion off of him and into the air. He tried to turn and run, but he couldn’t do anything but gasp. As he lay flat on the ground, panting for a breath, the ceiling above him gave out, sending a solid piece of debris onto the lower half of his body. Peter yelped, met with dust and the cold air of the night sky above him.

“Good try, you little m—“ Peter gasped as the tail end of Scorpion’s barbed stinger connected with his side, piercing the dent he had left before and sliding beneath Peter’s ribs. Before he could finish the sentence, a blast from the distance caught Scorpion in the chest. The man fell forward, limp, stinger still curling over his backside and stuck in Peter’s abdomen.

What happened next was fuzzy, unfocused. Peter felt warmth flow from his side. He still struggled to breathe. A muffled crash reached his eardrums, and suddenly the rest of the building was rushing toward him. He squirmed, trying to dislodge the rock and man above him before the rest of the roof caved in. But he was stuck; there was no use.

As Peter cried out in fear, arms raised to shield his face, a red blur covered his vision. Seconds later, the impact of the falling debris shook his body. But he wasn’t crushed. Something—someone—was on top of him, bearing the load.

Peter was snapped back to the present. He was hurt, but he could focus only on the darkness above him, around him. He only slightly felt the metal barb wedged beneath his ribs.

“Someone, get the debris off, I don’t know how long I can hold it,” Tony urgently barked from within the Iron Man suit.

“Help,” Peter whimpered. It was all coming back to him. The building, the water, the panic… “Help me, help me, please. I can’t—I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” His breaths were short and shallow.

Above him, stretched like a tent, was Tony, face inches from Peter’s, arms extended beside Peter’s shoulders. Tony was trying his best to stay above Peter, giving his chest room to rise and fall. As the teen’s panic intensified, he opened up his face plate, looking straight at him.

“Hey, Peter, Peter. Look at me,” he urged softly. “Open your eyes, look at me.”

Peter shook his head. He was crying. His eyes remained shut tight.

“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” Tony assured him. “I’ve got it. I’ve got you.”

“I can’t—I can’t breathe.” He choked out in response. The rocks above them shifted and groaned, and Peter’s gasping only intensified.

“Guys, what’s the timeline on this cleanup?” Tony whispered into his comms, conveying both warning and urgency. He knew the team could hear Peter’s whimpers through his suit.

“Give us 2 more minutes to get to you, Stark,” Steve responded. The sound of more shifting rocks echoed through the comm.

“Look at me, Peter.” Tony said, refocusing his attention on Peter, who trembled beneath him.

For once, Peter’s eyes cracked open, bloodshot and unsettled gaze landing on Tony.

“You’re going to be okay. Breathe with me, ok, kid? Don’t lose it, you can do it. In, two three. Out, two three.” Peter obeyed, eyes locked on Tony’s. “There you go. Try four, ok?” The two breathed together, gradually moving up and up in their count.

“I’ve got you,” Tony said again, feeling the weight above him lessen. “Hey and don’t think I’ll forget about the whole stealing my suit thing,” he said, noticing Peter had calmed down. He said it with just enough of a teasing note that Peter wouldn’t get worked up again. “How’d you even do that, kid?”

Peter avoided eye contact, breath returning to a somewhat normal pant. “I studied the protocols from my suit and worked backwards to trick FRIDAY into giving me your authorization.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. I’d almost be proud of you, if it weren’t for the deception and stealing thing.” Tony responded with a smirk. The last of the rocks was being lifted. He just needed to keep Peter distracted for a bit longer…

“It’s just for Mark 11, don’t worry, I didn’t mess with anything else,” Peter answered. Suddenly, the cold air hit him once more and Tony rose from his position above him. Next, someone was dislodging the structure on his lower half and moving the limp figure from his side. They had just slid him over when Peter felt a jerk at his side.

“Agh,” he gasped instinctively, pain shooting through his side.

“Shit,” Tony said, eyeing the barb protruding from the boy. It had come off of Scorpion’s tail and remained lodged in Peter’s side.

“Bruce, get the med bay ready. He’s hurt,” Tony practically yelled into his helmet.

“No, Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark…’m fine, I jus…” Peter’s eyes grew heavy, as the adrenaline wore off and the pain returned to him. That last movement had jabbed the barb in deeper and Peter felt like his insides were burning.

“’migh be poison bu…bu I dunno, it stings Mm Stark. ‘mma be okay though.” He felt metal arms reach under him and lift him from the ground. The movement jostled the barb, and Peter groaned.

Peter felt a weight on the barb. Then hesitation. “Don’t pull it out, the spikes will do more damage on the way out than the way in,” Steve ordered. Peter wished the agony would end. 

“’mma be okay, right?” Peter’s voice was weak and uncertain this time. It was the last thing he said before he slipped into unconsciousness, the sound of repulsors drowning out his whimper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience guys...I'm so sorry life got so hectic. But i'm back and will be posting a lot this week and after! I'll make it up to you!!
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you like this chapter. I'm really happy with how it came out. Scorpion saga may be over, but there's still so much left to unpack, so hang onto your hats!


	6. Chapter 6

Peter drifted in and out of consciousness. Each scene came as brief flashes, confused and foggy.

The wind rushed against his exposed face. He trembled, feeling cold and weak. “Karen, engage suit warmers.” He heard Tony’s voice, muffled and distant. Then he felt better. The shaking subsided. “Hang in there, buddy.” Peter drifted back to sleep.

 

“What do you mean it’s not working?” Tony yelled. Peter stirred. He was laying down. He was out of his suit, covered in blankets, it seemed. “How is it not working?” Tony asked, this time in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Bruce answered with a sense of panic. “I assume it’s his metabolism. Or maybe it’s the poison. But we gotta get it out sooner rather than later, or else it’ll just keep feeding him the toxins. Whatever’s in there has his heart rate dangerously low.”

Peter moaned. The pain was coming back to him. His eyes fluttered open. He was in a hospital room. He was shirtless, cold, covered in blood. Tony’s gaze met his.

“Peter, look at me.” Tony was suddenly inches from his face, his hands wrapped behind Peter’s neck. “We gotta take the barb out, but you’re burning through anesthesia like crazy.”

Peter heard the words but couldn’t make sense of them. Tony’s voice faded away as a wave of pain hit him, and Peter’s eyes shut tightly as he rode it out.

“Did you hear me? Peter? Peter?” Tony panicked.

“Tony, stay there, I’m gonna do it.” Bruce said.

Peter heard Tony sigh and reach for his hand. “Sorry kid,” he stated softly.

 _Do what? What’s happening? Why is he sorry?_ Peter tried to make sense of the words. Something about a barb…

“AHHHHH.” Tony’s heart broke as he heard Peter’s blood curdling cry. The kid passed out seconds later, and Bruce rushed to cauterize the wound.

 

Peter couldn’t breathe. Was he stuck under a building again? That seemed to keep happening? Was he drowning? Maybe…it seemed like a combination of both.

He tried to make sense of his surroundings, to figure out whether he was dreaming or not.

 _Beeping. Blankets. Voices_. Maybe he was still in the hospital room.

“Help,” he weakly mouthed, hoping someone would hear him.

“Peter, you’re going into surgery now, you’re going to be okay.” It was Bruce, but he was anxious, despite his calming words. Peter cracked open his eyes to see his face staring back at him from above the bed. They were moving. Or rather, the bed was being rolled--quickly.

“Bruce, he needs more anesthesia or else he’s gonna feel this.” Was Tony there?

Suddenly, everything got warm again. Peter felt sleepy, and as his vision dimmed, he welcomed the respite.

 

Bruce drove the Epinephrine shot into his chest. Tony stood motionless, mouth open, eyes wide. The room stood still for what seemed like an enternity. And then…

Gasp. His heart felt like it was on fire. Peter was thrust into consciousness with a sudden burst of light. His eyes fluttered open, met by such brightness that he quickly closed them again.

“Peter.” It would have sounded like a yell if Tony’s voice hadn’t faltered such. “Jesus, Peter don’t you ever do that to me again or I swear…”

Peter didn’t catch the last part, his mind retreating back into the alluring warmth of the darkness.

 

Tony sat in his chair. He had replaced the uncomfortable, standard chair with his recliner days ago. It just made more sense. Now he could sleep here fairly comfortably without leaving Peter’s side.

“You need to shower. You stink.” Bruce entered the med bay room.

“Uhh, thanks. Duly noted.” Tony didn’t have the energy or the cheerfulness for a witty response. And Bruce noticed it, too. As Tony turned to sniff his armpits, Bruce studied him.

“Tony…” He began.

“Oh great, that’s the shrink voice. Am I your patient now? What happened to ‘not that kinda doctor’ Bruce? I want him back.” Tony quickly interrupted. He knew where this was going. _You’re not getting enough sleep. You need to pull it together. You need to take care of yourself._

“Tony, all I’m saying is…you need to get more sleep. You need to shower. You need to take care of yourself.” Bruce shrugged, offering his words like a peace treaty.

“Annnnnd, there it is,” Tony muttered. “Uncanny.”

“I know you love this kid, but it’s been a week. You need to—“

“Need to what, Bruce?” Tony’s voice rose. “Need to leave his side? Need to leave the side of the person whose life is falling apart because of me? Who’s only in this mess because I dragged him into it? Who’s only family was killed because of _my_ negligence? I need to leave his side? I need to abandon him? Because, yeah, that worked swimmingly last time, dontcha think? Great idea.”

The room was silent. Tony took a second to steady his breathing. He realized he’d snapped. Bruce looked back at him, not speaking.

“I—it’s just…” Tony began, softer this time.

“I know. I know you blame yourself. We all do.” Bruce interjected. “But if you’re gonna be there for him, you gotta be okay yourself. And that’s why we’re here. That’s why the team’s got your back.”

Tony nodded. His hand was shaking. He hadn’t noticed that before now. But ever since the kid’s heart stopped, he’d felt anxious as all get-out with every passing minute.

Bruce subtly took note of the shaking, then redirected his eyes to Tony’s. “We can take shifts with him when you’re not here. That way, he won’t be alone if he wakes up.”

Tony tilted his head, as if considering it. “Mehhhhhh.”

“C’mon, you need at least one good night’s sleep in a real bed, Tony.”

“Fair point. Okay, how about this. I’ll go shower to get you to stop complaining. You stay with the kid. Then I’ll have FRIDAY transport a spare mattress into the med bay while I’m gone, and ta-dah! Real bed!” Tony headed toward the door, hands raised triumphantly.

“No, that’s not—Tony!” Bruce called after him as he exited. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t think that’s—“ Tony was long gone.

“…a good idea.” Bruce stood awkwardly in the room, now aware he was talking to himself. He looked around, surveying the space, as if figuring out his next move. Then, hesitantly, he walked over to Tony’s reclining chair, looked around one last time, and sat down slowly. He didn’t slide back, but rather, he sat perched on the edge, hands folded, leaning toward Peter’s sleeping form with intensity. He wasn’t as good at this whole paternal thing, but he knew Tony would kill him if even if the slightest harm befell Peter on his watch. So he sat, scooted to the edge, arms supporting his head and gaze fixed intently on Peter.

A few minutes passed, Bruce unmoving, watching silently.

“Is this creepy? I feel like this is creepy. Sorry, Peter.” Bruce whispered. He didn’t seem to mind when no reply came.

 

It had been an hour. Bruce still watched the sleeping kid.

“Alright, not gonna lie, this is weird.” Tony walked through the door, breaking Bruce’s concentration. “I appreciate the effort and whatnot, but I think waking up to that would have scared the shit out of the kid.”

Bruce looked flustered as he rose from the chair. “Well, you said to watch him and you made it all serious and I…” he trailed off. “Were you watching me through FRIDAY? How’d you even know I was doing that the whole time?” Bruce sounded offended.

“Wait, hold that thought.” Tony stepped out of the room. Seconds later, he returned dragging a twin mattress and blanket. He slid it beside Peter’s bed and threw the blanket into its center. “Gotta ‘get some real sleep,’ Doctor’s orders. Bye Brucey.” Tony waved.

Bruce rolled his eyes. At least Tony seemed more like his normal self, so Bruce wouldn’t complain…this time.

“I’ll be in in the morning.” He hollered without enthusiasm as he headed through the door. “And Tony?” He paused, waiting for Tony’s muffle “Hm?”

“You’re a bad patient.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but I didn't want to leave y'all hanging with injured Peter for too long! I hope this is a good mix of the serious with lighthearted (I LOVE getting Bruce and Tony together!). 
> 
> Let me know how you're liking it :D I love writing this story y'all!


	7. Chapter 7

He felt like he was choking. His eyes shot open, and Peter gasped for air. There was something down his throat. He clawed at it, attempting to rip off whatever covered his mouth. But he was met with resistance. Someone was holding his arms back.

Peter’s vision came into focus. Tony stood inches from his face, arms sprawled, hands grasping each of Peter’s wrists. “Calm down, calm down, buddy. It’s just us. It’s just us. You’re okay.”

Within seconds, the pressure down Peter’s throat lessened. Peter coughed and gasped, trying to normalize his breathing. His chest burned. Tony loosened his grip, and Peter watched Bruce walk by with a tube in his hand. Had he been intubated? He looked around. He was in a hospital, it seemed.

“Where—“ Peter tried. His voice was raspy and soft. “Where am I?” he managed to get out on the second attempt.

Immediately, Tony was easing a straw into his mouth. “Water, drink,” he commanded softly. As Peter drank, Tony looked over at Bruce. They hesitated, until Bruce took the lead.

“You’re in the med bay at the compound, Peter. You’re injured.” Bruce said cautiously. “What do you remember?”

Peter thought back as far as he could. It was all jumbled. He caught flashes—fighting, the Avengers. But he couldn’t place them. “I—uh—it’s all foggy, but if I try maybe…” he sputtered. His heart rate rose.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to remember,” Tony assured him. Tony was so different from his normal self, Peter noted. He’d ask about that later. Now he needed to get his bearings.

“I remember flashes. But I feel like I’m still dreaming...” Peter looked around. “How long have I been out? What happened?”

Tony and Bruce hesitated, looking at each other once again. “It’s been a little over two weeks.” Tony said it as if it were casual, no big deal.

“TWO WEEKS?” Peter stated as loudly as his sore throat could manage. “But, what, where, how did—“

“Concussion,” Tony quickly interjected. “Don’t worry, it’s normal. You hit your head, so you were in and out a lot.”

“Why was there a tube down my throat?” Peter continued incredulously.

“Pulmonary edema.” Bruce chimed in. “You had fluid buildup in your lungs, and we were worried you weren’t getting enough oxygen.”

Peter paused to process what he had said. “How—was I sick?”

“Sorta…” Tony answered. “You, uh, you got stung. You had an allergic reaction. No biggie though, Bruce patched ya up.”

Peter looked at Tony with disbelief. “I ‘got stung’? You’ve gotta be kidding me. I can’t believe I’ve been here two weeks and you guys aren’t even gonna tell me what actually happened.” Peter started swatting at the sensors attached to him, ripping off the wires attached to his chest. He moved to swing his legs around the bed. He was done laying around.

Suddenly, a shooting pain radiated from his side. Peter doubled over, gasping, hand clutching his left abdomen and eyes shut tightly in pain. Tony was beside him in an instant, holding his shoulders, evaluating the teen.

“Yeah, not a good move, kid,” he added as Peter slowly opened his eyes and relaxed. He was still grimacing as he lifted up his gown to reveal a giant patch of white gauze.

Peter hesitated. Then, with voice faltering, he continued. “What happened to me?” It was almost a rhetorical question. Almost. Peter looked up, eyes meeting Tony’s. “Please.”

Tony sighed. “Bruce? Wanna enlighten Peter about the medical adventure he’s undertaken these past two weeks?”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh, Peter you sustained a lot of injuries in a fight. You fell and hit your head pretty hard, hence the concussion. And then you had some neurotoxins injected into your bloodstream via a barb that impaled your side. While we were dealing with the toxins, the barb pierced your diaphragm and collapsed your lung. Then you went into anaphylactic shock from the barb’s venom. We took you into surgery to stop the bleeding in your side and to repair your lung and diaphragm. Thanks to your healing factor, the tissue damage was pretty straightforward to fix. The toxins, however, were a little harder to get out of your system. Your—uh,” Bruce faltered, looking at Tony briefly. “Your heart stopped, uh, two times.” Tony’s mouth twitched. “And once we got it beating again, we started you on intubation and a blood transfusion to clean out the toxin from your system. You had a pretty bad reaction to the transfusion, though, probably the result of your enhanced DNA. Which is good to know, for future reference, but it means you’re still getting the venom out of your body pretty slowly.” Bruce stared back at Peter’s confused facial expression. “We’ve kept you somewhat sedated, but the toxin and concussion combo has been the main thing keeping you under. Whatever was in the venom, which we’re working on figuring out, is lingering around your wound site. It shouldn’t be life threatening, but it is somehow interfering with your healing factor.”

Peter didn’t respond for a while. Processing. “So, what—what is my recovery time?” he asked softly.

“I’d say a few more weeks of your side being pretty sore. We’ve been changing bandages every 2 days. Your breathing may take a bit to get back to normal, given that your lungs are still adjusting to breathing on their own and have sustained a double trauma. Your brain we gotta keep an eye on. That’s the norm with concussions, just since they’re pretty unpredictable. So we’ll keep tabs on your cognitive state, but that fact that you’re awake and lucid is a good sign. Best case scenario, you’ll just have residual headaches and sleepiness for a little bit longer, then back to normal.”

Peter didn’t answer. He felt numb. He was confused at what had gone so wrong to leave him like this. After some time of silence, he spoke up. “Who did this?”

Once again, Bruce’s eyes met Tony’s. “How about we talk about that in the morning? We’ve covered a lot of ground as is.”

Peter would have argued if he weren’t so tired. His head was pounding from the sustained concentration. He nodded, and attempted to swing his legs back onto the bed. Tony didn’t let him get very far before grabbing his legs and moving them for him. Peter wouldn’t admit it, but he was glad for the help; his abdomen still burned. He blinked with heavy eyelids as Bruce worked to reconnect the sensors Peter had dislodged.

“Get some sleep, kid,” Tony said, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Good to have you back in the land of the living.” His words were surprisingly….tender, Peter thought. But he wasn’t complaining.

 

Tony lay on the mattress beside Peter’s hospital bed, fast asleep. Or as fast asleep as one could be sleeping beside a kid whose heart had stopped beating twice in the past two weeks.

Tony stirred, hearing beeping nearby, growing faster and louder. What was that?

_Peter’s heart monitor._

Tony’s eyes jumped open. The kid’s heart was beating insanely fast. And soft whimpers were emerging from his bed. Tony paused for a second. Nightmares. Should he let him be? Would it be an invasion of the kid’s space to wake him?

All the sudden, the whimpering turned into screaming. The heart rate sensor flashed a red warning light. Tony didn’t hesitate.

“Hey, hey, Peter.” Tony shook Peter’s shoulders. “Breathe, it’s me, Tony. You’re okay. It’s just a dream.”

Peter stopped screaming and opened his eyes slowly. They were full of confusion and pain. He tried to catch his breath.

“Here, let’s sit up,” Tony said. He plopped down on the edge of the mattress beside Peter and helped scoot him back and upright on the bed.

“I—I remember. The guy with the tail, the Scorpion,” Peter mumbled. His eyes were distant. “That was real right? Or was that a dream?” His eyes refocused, meeting Tony’s.

“Yeah, that was real.” He affirmed.

“He was in the warehouse, and it fell,” Peter said, talking more to himself than to Tony. Peter paused, thinking.

“Gargan!” The name came to him suddenly. “He’s the one from the ferry. The Toomes deal.” The pieces were finally fitting together. “Toomes…”

Tony watched as Peter’s eyebrows scrunched. He was remembering, which was good. But there was the elephant in the room, and Tony felt like he was walking through a minefield just waiting for it to rear its head.

“Wait…” Peter nearly whispered. Tony braced himself.

“I—I had a dream that…We—where’s my phone, I need to call May, I need to see, I think…” Peter’s words were jumbled together, his breathing growing short and shallow.

“Peter…” Tony said.

Peter stopped panicking and just looked at him. His face broke, just as it had when he swung in the room two weeks ago. This was like knives in Tony’s heart all over again.

“You, you were there. And she was…was, was that a dream?” Peter whimpered, tears welling.

“Peter…” he started again. “May’s gone.” Peter’s held breath turned into a violent, horrified sob. “That wasn’t a dream.” Peter looked shell-shocked. “I’m so sorry.”

Through tears, Peter sobbed the words, “no,” more times than Tony could count. He reached his hand out, connecting with Peter’s back, and rubbed comforting circles. “He’s—he’s gone, right? We got him?” Peter managed to get out.

“We got him, Peter, we got him.” He drew him in for a hug.

Through the doorway, Bruce watched the two. He had been alerted by the heartrate alarms. Tony noticed him over Peter’s shoulders and gave a subtle nod. Bruce turned and left the two alone.

 

Over the course of the next few days, the entire team had stopped by to see Peter. In typical Peter fashion, he had smiled and laughed—only barely less cheerful than his normal self. He had them fooled. But he couldn’t fool Tony.

“Good morning, squirt,” he said, walking into the room and opening the curtains. “Clint dropped these off for ya while you were sleeping. Bagels. Said you liked them.” Tony dropped a bag of plain bagels on Peter’s bed. Peter smirked. But he didn’t say anything.

“Knock knock.” It was Natasha.

“Hey,” Peter said, straightening up slightly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked with genuine concern. For a spy and former assassin, she had a great bedside manner.

“Good, good. Almost 100%, I think,” Peter chirped. Tony, with his back to the teen, rolled his eyes. _BS._

“Which reminds me,” Tony turned to face them. “Good news. Bruce says you may be good to be discharged today.”

Peter’s face lit up. “Really??”

“You’ll still be taking it easy, but then you can rejoin society a bit. How’s that sound?” Tony asked.

“Great.”

“The team was thinking of having a lunch to celebrate your return. A grill-out. After all, it’s a Saturday, great summer weather.” Nat added with a smile.

“That’d be awesome,” Peter said. He plastered a smile on his face until Natasha wished him good luck and turned to leave. Tony lingered, however, and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Peter’s face drop the second Nat had left.

“How are you really?” he asked, catching Peter off guard.

Peter paused. _I should be dead, not May. I don’t feel like moving. I just want to stay in bed._ That’s what Peter thought. But not what he said.

“Fine.”

“Uh, huh, sure as hell you’re fine.” Tony answered sternly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Peter responded shortly. Feeling remorseful, he added, “Later. Let’s just celebrate today and, and we can talk about it later.”

Tony’s eyes didn’t leave Peter’s face. Peter looked away.

“Okay. Later.” Tony finally broke the silence, compromising. “Let me call Bruce.”

After a comprehensive evaluation of his side, lung capacity, and cognitive functioning, Bruce cleared him to leave. With conditions.

“Peter, we’re gonna move you into the spare room in Tony’s apartment. That way he can keep an eye on you better.” Bruce told him.

“I live next door; I don’t think that should be an issue. I’m perfectly fine—“ Peter protested.

“Fine. Ya know I’ve heard that word a lot the past few days, but considering you’ve got a hole in your side and a head injury that makes you sleepy every 2 hours, I would say that’s a little bit of a stretch.” Tony added. “Peter,” he pleaded, sarcasm gone in a flash. “Please? Stay in the apartment, just until you’re 100%.” Peter considered it. “You really shouldn’t be complaining. I’ve got the latest tech, ya know? Every video game console you could dream of, instant latte maker, my lab…” Peter perked up at the mention of Tony’s lab. “Alternatively, we could put you with Dr. Brucey here, but just saying, if he goes green on you in the middle of the night, that is not my problem.”

“Fine,” Peter surrendered.

“There we go, that’s a fine I like to hear.” Tony smiled.

“Now that that’s settled…” Bruce continued with eyebrows raised, “you’re also on the bench for training until your side is fully healed.” Tony watched Peter’s reaction, but, much to his surprise, he didn’t protest. “We’re gonna check in every 2 days. FRIDAY is gonna monitor your vitals and contact me if there’s anything weird. Just until you’re cleared, ok?” Peter rolled his eyes but nodded. “If you have any trouble breathing, or any intense head pain, you let me or Tony know. Ok?” Peter nodded once more. “Other than that, I think we’re good.”

“You ready?” Tony asked, extending an arm to a semi-peeved Peter. Peter dangled his feet over the bed, refusing Tony’s hand at first. As he stood upright and swayed, however, he accepted Tony’s support, walking a few steps leaning against him before gradually letting go.

“Stuff’s already in my guest room, including the nerd posters.” Tony jabbed.

“They’re Star Wars…” Peter responded, with feigned offense.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I figure you can freshen up and then we’ll head downstairs to lunch. If you’re still up for it?” Tony said as they proceeded to the elevator, Bruce in tow behind them.

“Sounds good.” Peter nodded.

“I even found an awesome shirt for you to wear when I was moving your stuff.” Tony said when they had entered his apartment. From the kitchen counter, Tony grabbed a grey Iron Man shirt. He tossed it at Peter, whose cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “Cute,” he added as Peter caught the shirt, shaking his head as he walked into the bathroom.

“But don’t think I didn’t see the I <3 Captain America shirt you had at the bottom of the stack.” Tony snickered, hollering out as Peter closed the bathroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta-dah! More to come on Peter processing the grief and how his relationship with Tony and the team develops.
> 
> Should have the next chapter up soon (can you tell I'm on break lol).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience guys! I'm back and ready to carry this story to an exciting ending ;) But don't worry, there's still a few more chapters 'til we get there. This chapter is a bit shorter, focusing on the grief hitting Peter. Let me know what you think and what kind of things you might be interested to hear more about re: character development! Look forward to reading ur comments :D

Clint was the grill master, spatula in hand. Vision was fiddling with the string of lights that stretched across the courtyard area, levitating to tie them to a nearby tree. Steve and Sam were playing Rhodey and Bruce in pool. And Tony was hovering, following close by Peter as the two walked through the doorway leading outside.

“Hey,” Clint cheered. “Look who it is!” Everyone stopped what they were doing to say hi or flash a smile Peter’s way.

Bruce left the pool table and approached Peter. “Feeling ok, Peter?” he asked. Peter liked Bruce, he had decided. He practically owed him his life, too, he supposed.

“Yeah, thanks Dr. Banner. Or—er—Bruce.” Peter stammered. The whole partying with the Avengers things still got to him, even after all this time.

Peter mingled awkwardly for the next twenty minutes. Tony was either right by his side or just steps away the whole time. He got to talking about pool with Cap, who proceeded to show him how to properly hit the cue ball. As Peter leaned across the table, he sucked in sharply, his side pinching.

“Peter? You ok?” Tony asked from a few feet okay.

“I’m fine.” Peter snapped quietly through gritted teeth. He turned away from Tony and kept playing.

About ten minutes later, Clint got everyone’s attention. “Burgers are up, guys.” Everyone made a dash for the buffet line.

“And before we eat,” Cap interjected, “let’s take a second to raise a glass to Peter. You’re one hell of a kid, and we’re lucky to have you in the team.” Echoes of “here here” filled the courtyard in response to Steve’s toast.

But for some reason, this didn’t quite feel like the toasts at his graduation party. _What were they toasting?_ Peter wondered. _His shitty life? Was this nothing more than a literal pity party?_

Peter couldn’t eat, not once his mind started going. Who was he to be happy? How could he be partying with the Avengers, enjoying life after everything that happened?

“Hey, kid,” Clint interrupted his thoughts, pulling up a chair. “So Stark just got the newest Xbox model, and there’s a killer Call of Duty game on there. Whadaya say we give it a spin? I don’t know if you’re on limited screen time or something with the concussion, but I swear it’ll be worth it.”

Peter didn’t hear a word he said. He was still stuck in the pity spiral. He felt like throwing up. “Gotta go,” he said. Without another word he left the table, and ducked out toward the door.

The whole party grew silent.

“I knew it was too soon,” Steve said as the door closed behind Peter.

“Tony…” Nat said.

“On it.” Tony took off after Peter.

 

He found him crying in his room in Tony’s apartment. He heard the sobs through the closed door, but knocked anyway.

“Go away!” Peter yelled.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Peter,” Tony answered, walking in slowly. He was on his bed, hands over his eyes, knees pulled to his chest and elbows resting on them.

“Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that either.” Tony paused. “Talk to me. It is ‘later,’ after all.”

“Stop. Can you just stop? You won’t leave me alone. I’m not gonna spontaneously combust. Just let me deal with it, ok?” Peter’s words were harsh. Tony had never heard him speak with this much anger, especially not at him.

“Peter, I’m looking out for you. We’re all looking out for you.” Tony countered, shocked at his outburst.

“You’re not looking out for me, you’re pitying me. That was all just some parade for the poor orphan. And you only want me in here because you feel bad. You know as well as I do that I’m good for nothing and that this is all my fault. So don’t act like I’m some MVP because I’m not. I’m nothing. You can stop pretending. I lost. I couldn’t even get Gargan myself.”

“Peter,” Tony was raising his voice now, too. “You think that’s all an act? You think this is an act?” Tony gestured at the room around him. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“You should have let me die.” The words were biting.

“Don’t.” Tony lost it. “Don’t you say that to me. Do you know? Do you know what it felt like to watch your heart stop beating, to watch you _die_ —two times? Do you know how I felt? You feel guilty, sure, but do you want to know how I feel? I made you a promise and not only did I let you down but I nearly got you killed in the process. And May…May’s on me. Not you. And I will never, never, live those moments down.” Peter’s sobbing calmed down, suppressed by Tony’s intensity.

“Look at me,” Tony continued. Peter obeyed. “None of this is a show, none of this is an act. This is _your team_ being there for you like a team is supposed to do. Like a _family_ is supposed to do. And this?” Tony motioned again at the room. “This is because I’m not about to watch your heart stop on me a third time, got it? I’m not gonna have even more blood on my hands, and I sure as hell won’t have your blood on my hands. I can’t, Peter. I can’t do that.” Tony stopped, eyes distant. Peter was speechless. In a quieter voice, he continued, “So don’t you wish you were dead, Peter Parker. You can’t do that to me.”

Tony calmed down, and seeing Peter’s defensiveness subsiding, he went to sit next to him on the bed. “You know this is home. You know we’re your team. None of these past few weeks changes any of that. You didn’t mess up. And, hell, you’re allowed to be upset, kid. You’re not fooling me with the bullshit. Cry, for goodness sake. Scream at me, sure. But don’t point that at yourself. Ok?” Tony hesitated. “Ok?”

Peter moved to shake his head, but stopped. Voice breaking, he responded, “If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened. She’d—she’d still be here.”

“You can’t live in the what if’s, Peter. You can’t torture yourself like that. What happened happened. You put Gargan in jail by doing the right thing. He got out of jail on his own. None of that is because you failed.” Tony reasoned.

“But if I were quicker…” Peter started.

“No, none of that. I don’t want to hear another ‘if’ come out of your mouth, ok? We all screwed up, but that’s what we do sometimes. We screw up. None of us are perfect, even though we’re superheroes. Hell, maybe we’re all more screwed up and imperfect because we’re superheroes.” Tony rambled.

Peter paused, processing his words. “I just—I just feel like I’m doing more harm than good.”

“Welcome to the club, kid. But you’re doing _something_. And that’s better than doing nothing.”

Peter nodded, seemingly satisfied. He wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“It’s gonna be hard, Peter. But we’re here for you.” Tony added, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter nodded in response, eyes still distant and red.

The two sat in silence for a bit, Tony’s hand still resting on Peter’s shoulder.

“I’m pretty tired.” Peter broke the silence. “I’m gonna take a nap, but…but can you tell the team sorry for running out. It’s not their fault.” Peter said through a stuffy nose.

“Sure thing,” Tony said as he squeezed Peter’s shoulder and moved from the bed. “FRIDAY’s here if you need to get in touch with me. And my room’s just across the hall, two doors down.”

Peter nodded silently, and slowly slipped underneath the covers. Tony stood at the door, watching him for a second before flashing a somber smile, turning off the lights, and shutting the door—being sure to leave it open just a crack.

 

Tony sat on the couch watching TV and tinkering on a StarkPad. Suddenly, Bruce’s face flashed on the screen.

“Hey, is Peter ok? It’s nothing major but FRIDAY alerted me to a rapid increase in heart rate.” Bruce said over the video monitor.

Tony muted the TV. “I’ll go check, but my guess is nightmares. He was having some the other night in the med bay.”

“Makes sense. Just let me know if you need me,” Bruce responded, as Tony stood up from the couch.

“Will do.” Tony ended the call and headed down the hallway. Cracking Peter’s door open a bit more, he peaked his head inside. Sure enough, he heard whimpering. Tony sighed. He knew traumatic nightmares, and he knew that once they started, they were hard to kick out. So he stayed, leaning against the doorframe, waiting. Maybe he would calm down and fall back into peaceful sleep. But just in case…

As if he had been reading Tony’s mind, Peter began to scream. It was loud and jumbled, but Tony could have sworn he heard him shouting May’s name. He rushed to Peter’s side, shaking him by the shoulders. The teen trashed and twisted.

“Hey, Peter. Wake up. Wake up!” Tony pleaded.

Peter shot up with a gasp. “I can’t—I can’t, where—“ he stammered.

“You’re okay. You’re having a nightmare.” Tony assured him, hands still resting on his shoulders.

“No, the roof. The roof—it’s gonna collapse. We’re—we have to…” Peter began, breaths quickening.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Tony wasn’t sure how to calm him down, how to convince him they were safe. He reached his arm around Peter’s shoulder and held tightly. Maybe that would snap him out of it.

But Tony couldn’t get through to him. “I can’t—I can’t breathe.” He began. His breaths were short and ragged. “I can’t breathe,” he spat with urgency.

Tony froze. He thought back to the collapsed lung, the fluid buildup. “FRIDAY, get Bruce down here.” He shouted.

“Hey, it’s okay. Breathe with me, just like last time.” Tony was improvising, buying time until Bruce arrived. “In, one two. Out, one two. You with me?” He shook Peter’s shoulders, but his eyes were shut tight. “Hey, Peter, look at me.” They opened just a crack. “Ready?”

Peter maintained eye contact with Tony, but made no move to acknowledge him game plan. _Oh well_ , Tony thought, _eye contact will have to do._

“And, in, one two. Out, one two. Breathe with me.” Tony repeated. Peter tried to follow along through ragged breaths. He was hyperventilating, showing no sign of slowing. Tony grew frantic as Peter’s panic escalated. Without giving it a second thought, he slid closer to Peter and wrapped him in his arms, hand behind his head.

“Dizzy…” Peter responded, and slumped against Tony’s shoulder.

“In, one two three. Out, one two three,” he continued. And slowly, Peter complied. “FRIDAY, where the hell is Bruce?” Tony paused to ask.

“Here, I’m here.” Bruce busted in the door. “FRIDAY updated me.”

Peter was breathing slower now, and he looked like he was about to pass out against Tony’s shoulder, slumped and limp. Tony looked up at Bruce. “He’s calmed down now, but he said he was dizzy. I think we should check his O2 levels. Maybe it’s the lung. Maybe…maybe it collapsed again?” Tony tried to keep his voice steady, despite the fear rising in his throat.

“I’ve got FRIDAY running vitals,” Bruce answered, coming over to Peter’s side.

“Lung capacity normal,” FRIDAY’s voice boomed throughout the room. “Excessive CO2 release detected. My diagnosis is a night terror-induced panic attack.” Tony froze. He had heard those robotic words before.

Bruce and Tony just looked at each other silently. Peter was now shaking. “At least there’s no complication with his lungs,” Bruce offered, softly addressing Tony. And then they heard the sobs, muffled by Peter’s head buried in Tony’s chest. Tony nodded at Bruce. “We’ll talk.” And with an understanding glance, Bruce backed away and left.

Tony just held him. Was it seconds? Minutes? Half an hour? Neither of them were sure. But he just sat there, arms around the teen, until Peter slowly drifted into sleep, his tear-stained eyes no longer strong enough to fight the heaviness that beckoned him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Thanks so much for the comments! Y'all gave me great feedback on what you want to read more of :D. It's about to get very action-packed next chapter.

“Maybe it would help?” Tony asked, eyes fixed on Peter at the breakfast table. Peter moved his spoon around in his cereal bowl.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” His eyes didn’t leave the bowl.

“You were an eager beaver not too long ago, Peter. What’s going on?” Tony pressed. “Bruce has cleared you to train.”

Peter didn’t answer. He just shrugged. The sound of the spoon scraping the bowl filled the silence.

“Are you gonna eat it, or just play with it?” Tony asked. Peter looked up, finally putting the spoon down.

“I—uh—yeah, sorry.” He took a bite. But he didn’t say anything else.

“Peter, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, more earnestly. Tony shot him a skeptical glance. “I’m just tired. It’s hard to sleep, and stuff…” Peter looked down, embarrassed.

Tony resisted the urge to say “I know.” He didn’t want Peter to know FRIDAY alerted him every time he woke up in a panic. Most of the times, he’d come in and calm Peter down. But recently, Peter had just decided to avoid sleeping to avoid the nightmares. Tony had walked in on him watching a movie at 4AM just about every night the past week.

“You gotta sleep.” Tony said instead, matter-of-factly.

“I can’t.” The response sounded desperate.

“I can get you some sleeping medicine. Or we can change rooms. Or maybe…”

“No, it’s not that I’m not able to do it, I just—I can’t…I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to do that every night. I can’t, Tony.”

So much for the light breakfast table conversation to take Peter’s mind off things…Tony sighed. “I know,” he nodded. He wouldn’t press the matter, for now. As if right on cue, the elevator doors opened and Bruce walked in.

“Good morning,” he greeted, chipper as ever. “Peter, how’s the side?” Bruce had made a habit of checking in on Peter just about daily. Peter appreciated his kindness (and his literally saving his life) too much to care about his excessive concern.

“Good, Bruce. Really good.” He gave a subtle smile.

“So we’ll see you today then, eh?” Bruce put his arm around Peter’s and squeezed excitedly.

“Uhh…” Peter started, looking at Tony. Bruce followed his gaze to Tony’s and furrowed his brow.

“It’s a maybe.” Tony explained. Bruce didn’t push it, reading Tony’s tone.

“Oh come on, at least come _hang_ out?” Sam walked into the kitchen, catching the tail end of the conversation. Peter rolled his eyes. “Get it? Hang.” He laughed at his own joke. “But for real, the hanging upside down thing is my favorite.”

“Glad I’ve got cool party tricks,” Peter laughed back. The Avengers crew began to assemble in the common area, and Peter picked up his nearly empty cereal bowl and brought it toward the dishwasher.

“Nah ah ah.” Tony’s disapproval interrupted his task. “Happy plate,” he said mockingly.

“Seriously?” The teenager sass was definitely coming back as Peter got more comfortable with Tony. Tony raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Peter shoveled one last spoonful into his mouth and deposited his bowl with a pronounced eye roll.

 

 

“Peter, we need you out there today,” Steve said, as serious as ever. “If the team’s not training together, then we won’t be united when a real threat strikes.”

Peter wasn’t expecting the confrontation. He had told Tony he wasn’t feeling up to training today, even though he had used that excuse for the last 2 weeks.

“I, uh, I would Cap, but my side…” Peter stammered.

“Peter. I know your side is healed. I’ve talked to Bruce. We all know.” Steve interrupted. He let his words sink in. “I know it’s hard. But whatever’s keeping you from getting back in that suit is keeping you from getting better. The longer you push aside Spider-Man, the longer you push aside a part of you, a part of you need right now.” He paused. “And we need him, too.”

Peter’s voice grew quiet. “No you don’t.”

“Well, why don’t we see for ourselves.” Steve contested. He waited, gauging Peter’s response to his words. “Gear room, 15 minutes.” And with that, he turned and left, heading toward the training facility.

Peter sighed. _I guess today is the day_.

 

He hadn’t worn the suit since Gargan. Tony had patched it up and it was good as new—probably better with the changes he had made to accommodate future Chitauri scorpion tail attacks... And yet, he still felt uncomfortable. As he readjusted to the lenses, he lined up on one side of the fieldhouse. They were starting with a good ole game of capture the flag (full contact of course). His team was gathered beside him, preparing their weapons.

Tony flashed him a thumbs-up. Peter nodded, watching as Tony’s face plate dropped into place. Hawkeye double checked his quiver. Sam’s wings folded out beside him. Alright, part of him had to admit it was nice to be back in action.

The first few minutes passed without significance. The obstacles separating the two sides were meant to facilitate strategy and a hiding-and-waiting approach. Peter hung from the rafters, hidden by the camouflage draped across part of the ceiling. Below him, Black Widow and Hawkeye fought it out near the opponent’s side of the field.

Peter paused. Black Widow was occupied, and as far as he could tell, she was the last guard of their team’s flag. Maybe Hawkeye was making a self-sacrifice… He was hesitant to get involved, but he looked around from his birds’ eye view. Everyone was either otherwise engaged, or hiding in defense of his own team’s flag. It was now or never.

He swung down from behind the camouflage, dipping close enough to the opponent flag to snatch it with a single web shoot. Seconds later, it was in his hands.

_Now back to base. Easy enough…_

As he turned to shoot back toward to the canopy, a black figure emerged from his left. Rhodey’s repulsor blast struck him square in the chest.

“You think we’d let you off that easy, kid?” he smirked.

But Peter didn’t hear it. From where he had landed, he struggled to breathe; the air had been knocked out of him from the blast. He clawed at his faceplate, squirming as the panic rose.

“Kid?” Rhodes repeated.

Peter’s mask folded up and as his face appeared, he finally gasped in a ragged breath. He tried to steady his breathing, but he was still terrified of the seconds without air. His breaths quickened.

“Panic attack detected,” FRIDAY alerted Tony. But he was already on his way from the opposite corner of the fieldhouse.

By the time he arrived, Rhodes was kneeling beside Peter, who gasped with hasty breaths.

“Hey, hey, Peter, you’re okay, you’re okay. You can breathe. You can breathe.” Tony repeated. “Someone get Bruce to the gear room.”

“Get it off, get if off,” Peter managed to get out between breaths. He was motioning at the armor that ended below his neck.

Tony hesitated, but quickly obliged. He knew he could breathe, that his lungs _worked_. But if the kid thought his armor was crushing him, keeping him in it would do little to help.

Peter then lay there, undersuit only from the waist up, as a crowd of the team gathered around. They wanted to help, but as he made note of them, Peter’s breaths only quickened.

Turning to face Steve, Tony mumbled, “He’s out, Cap. Y’all finish up without us.” And then, swiftly, he lifted the trembling teen into his armored arms and repulsed quickly toward the entrance to the gear room.

 

“Will you at least go once?” Tony asked. He sat across from Peter in the living room couch. It had been a few hours since the field house incident, and he had walked in on Peter watching TV at 4AM again.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t need to see a shrink.” Peter responded defensively.

“Peter.” Tony paused. “Look at you. You’re not fine. And hell, who would be if they were in your shoes. I’m not saying it’s not normal. But it’s also not okay. You can’t do this every night.” Tony paused. “What if it’s Bruce?” he continued.

“I’ll be fine. Maybe you can’t wake up every night to help me, but I was never asking you to. I can do it alone.” Peter was putting up walls.

“As long as you’re here, I’m here.” Tony answered matter-of-factly. “I’m not going anywhere.” He just looked at Peter. They sat in silence. “Please, Pete. Talk to me,” he pleaded.

Peter sat in silence, his eyes pointed down. As he fiddled with this thumbs, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He started again, clearing his throat. “I just—I can’t be Spider-Man, Tony.” As he said it, his eyes met Tony’s. They were welling up with tears.

“I thought that was coming. Why?” Tony pressed.

“The risks outweigh the benefits. For every ATM robbery I stop, there are the ones I miss. Or the ones I make worse. Or the Neds and MJ’s of the world who now have to watch over their back for the rest of their lives, because of me. Or the ones who are dead…because of me.” Peter nearly whispered.

“So you’re saying when you do the things you do, as Spider-Man, the bad things happen because of you?” Tony responded. Peter nodded. “Funny, because I distinctly remember a conversation in which you said the opposite. That it’s NOT doing something that makes you responsible for those bad things. And I agree with that one, Peter. Not doing something when you have the ability to make a difference, that’s about as good as committing a crime. But doing something, that’s always a win. Even if you lose, that’s a win. Because you’re not standing by, you’re at least trying. And sure, your trying isn’t always good enough, but it’s damn sure better than giving up altogether.”

Peter remained silent. He remembered that conversation, too.

“What happened to that Peter?” Tony continued, softly. “What happened to the kid who wouldn’t let a day go by without patrolling, who was ready to join the Avengers? That’s right kid, _ready_.”

Peter responded, eyes still down. “That was before…”

“I know Peter. I know it sucks when we lose the things we care about—the people we care about. And I’m not a dweeby teen from Queens, but I think I get you a lot more than you think I do. I sold weapons to terrorists, Peter. How do you think I felt knowing that if it weren’t for me, thousands would still be alive? How do you think it felt to walk around that base and see what my name stood for? Or look at Bruce. How do you think he feels when he sees what he did as the Other Guy when things went south? How do you think any of us live with ourselves after all that? Even when we try to do good. Look at Sokovia. Shouldn’t we just throw in the towel, because clearly our best isn’t good enough?” Tony’s voice rose, and Peter’s tears subsided as his gaze rose to meet Tony’s. “Hell no. Because for every failed mission, there is at least one person we save. And that one is worth it. And yes, we’ve screwed up and yes we’re to blame. But that doesn’t make us give up. It makes us be better. It makes us work harder to make sure that that never happens again, that we never lose someone like that again.”

Tony moved closer. “Peter,” he said solemnly. Peter’s gaze didn’t waver. “When I was kidnapped, there was a doctor I stayed with—Yinsen. Yinsen kept me alive, and he helped me escape. And as he died, getting himself killed so I could escape, he told me something that I’ll never forget. ‘Don’t waste it,’ he said. ‘Don’t waste your life.’ I had a second chance, and that’s where Iron Man was born. I think you’re being faced with a similar chance, kid. You’ve got the ability. You’ve got the passion. The only thing stopping yourself is your own doubts. Don’t waste it. Don’t waste your life.”

Peter still didn’t answer. “Ok?” Tony asked, placing an arm on Peter’s shoulder.

“Ok.” The word was quiet and broken from his crying, but it was full of determination. “Ok,” he said again, this time louder. Tony squeezed his shoulder and let go, a smirk on his face.

“I’m proud of you, kid.” He said, in an uncharacteristically fatherly moment. But lately, such moments were becoming less and less out of character. “Now what do you say we call it a night and—“

Tony was cut off by the sound of alarms sounding in the facility. FRIDAY’s voice broke through the noise. “Boss, alien aggressors have opened a portal in New York City. Immediate intervention requested.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do y'all wanna see some Peter-Bruce time? It'll have to wait til the action plays out, but if it's something you want I can add it! Also did ya catch the title name-drop? ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Peter suited up with the team, swallowing his emotions and hanging on to the hint of determination he had reclaimed earlier. There was no time to debrief, no time to plan. They all hopped on the Quinjet, and Cap presented all they knew (not much) on the way there.

As the jet climbed higher, Tony came to sit next to Peter, flanked by Bruce.

“Peter, you’re gonna sit this one out with Bruce, help him pilot the jet,” Tony said. Bruce avoided eye contact.

“Are you serious? Did you not just convince me this was the right thing to do?” Peter responded.

“Yes, it is. But you haven’t trained in almost 2 months. You haven’t worn the suit in combat since Gargan. I don’t think taking on aliens is the natural first step to get back on your feet.” Tony answered. “Please,” he pleaded.

“I… I can do it, Tony. You were right, I’ve _gotta_ do it.” Peter replied.

Tony sighed. “Ah kid, why do you do this to me?” Tony made eye contact with Bruce. He was silent for a few seconds before he spoke up once more. “We’ll keep you on rooftop recon, ok? No contact with the aliens unless they engage first, got it? Focus on civilian evacuation. Bruce, you have permission to pick his ass up if he doesn’t follow that order.”

Not exactly what he had in mind, but Peter would take it.

 

It had been about half an hour since the Jet landed and dropped off the team. The alien fleet was small, thankfully. The portal had closed as soon as they had been deposited. By the team’s estimates, they could easily take them. But the problem was their ship: a sleek, long, and spikey looking contraption. Half of the fleet was preparing it for something, and the other was defending it. Most of the Avengers were trying to distract the aliens enough to get a closer look.

Peter watched from a nearby rooftop, listening as Bruce conveyed information about positions, alien technology, and more. No wonder they had slipped in unseen; the number of aliens was so small compared to the Chitauri invasion. This was either a suicide mission…or that ship held something up its sleeve.

 _Definitely the latter_ , Peter thought as an explosion rippled through the air.

“Status update? What was that?” Cap yelled through the comms.

“What the hell? The ship just flew right into the bottom of a building. Lodged itself in the first few floors,” Sam reported.

Shards of glass fell as the small ship settled in the bottom of the office building. The building was pretty tall, but nothing special compared to New York’s skyscrapers. The lower floors had been decimated by the ship’s entry, and exterior support pillars looked shaky. Heat signatures showed aliens emerging from the ship and spreading throughout the bottom floor.

“Anyone got a casualty report?” Cap barked.

“My scans show a three affected floors and mayhem in the basement. Spidey, how ‘bout an evac?” Tony asked.

Peter was off, swinging toward the action.

“They’re all assembling around the ship in the basement. What the hell is this?” Rhodey asked.

All of the sudden, the ship groaned and shook. More glass shards sprayed out as the ship positioned itself vertically, like a long thin rod inside the building. Peter paused from across the street, waiting for the groans to slow and the damage to settle.

“We’ve got major structural damage,” Tony reported. There was a pause. “Peter, how’s it coming?”

“On it.” He quickly sprang back into action, starting from the third floor and working his way down. He swung civilian after civilian out from where they hid, swinging through the broken windows and depositing them across the street.

“The ship is powering up and extending some mechanical structure,” Vision reported.

“Shit…” Tony said, flying by the building as he ran a 3D scan. “It’s not a ship. It’s a drill.” Sure enough, a pointed end emerged, pointed down toward the ground.

“What’s our status on civilians? Upper floors clear, too?” Steve asked.

“All clear, all clear,” Peter answered hurriedly, as he swung the last of the occupants to safety, with the help of Sam and Rhodey who had flown in to assist.

The drill clicked, its movements ceasing suddenly.

“It’s fully charged,” Bruce observed from his calculations, soaring high above the action. “But for some reason it’s halted.”

“The aliens!” Peter yelled, pointing from where he crouched, sticking to the side of the damaged building.

Above him, another portal was opening.

“Everyone, position yourself around the portal.” Cap ordered. The team moved quickly into action, preparing for an onslaught of more alien armies. Rhodey and Sam flew away from where Peter crouched, leaving him alone on the side of the building. They were all silent, ready, waiting.

Until they saw it…they saw that the aliens were going _toward_ the portal, not from it. Alien after alien sped into it, and disappeared. No ships followed behind. No armies stood in wait. Instead, the portal closed as the last of the aliens exited. And they were met with stillness.

“Uh…what just happened?” Rhodey chimed in.

“I know we’re scary as hell, but I feel like we didn’t do that,” Clint added.

The Avengers stood dumbfounded. The threat was over, right?

“Have all the civilians been evacuated from the vicinity?” Steve asked.

“That’s affirmative, Cap,” Hawkeye answered.

“Bruce, Tony, get a team down to look at that drill. Whatever it is, we’d better get it out of here sooner rather than later.” Cap ordered suspiciously.

“On it. Peter, get a few blocks away; we don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Tony said, blasting toward the structure as Bruce went to deplane. Peter hesitantly obliged and prepared to swing a few blocks south.

“Tony, be down there in a sec, but don’t tinker with it, ok?” Bruce pleaded.

“Tinker? I never tinker, I am a responsible man of science who—“

Mid-sentence, the drill clicked.

“What was that?” Rhodey asked.

“I didn’t tinker, I swear.” Tony responded seriously.

A high pitch hum began and light began to emanate from the ship. “Tony, get out of there, it’s about to—“

BOOM.

The building shook as the pointed end of the drill blasted downward. Wanda immediately sprang into action, containing and sending the pulse upwards instead of down and out, windows breaking as it moved up through the structure.

“Tony!” Cap yelled.

No response.

“Do you copy?”

Nothing.

The building groaned and creaked as the blast finished its ascent. Windows were shattered. Support beams were crumbling. The building was going to fall...

…The building was going to fall on Tony. Peter turned around and started running. He gave one glance upwards, at the shaky frame, his breath catching in his throat. Then he kept going.

 

He had stumbled into the basement just as the building began to give way above them. Tony lay lifeless on the ground beside him, suit dusty and pierced in countless places.

“C’mon Tony, we gotta go,” he said, grabbing the suit’s arm. “Get up!”

Tony wouldn’t budge. So Peter bent down, attempting to lift the metal hunk of dead weight.

“Peter, you’ve got seconds ‘til it gives out—get out of there,” Bruce informed him.

“Who’s closest? Someone go get them out.” Cap nearly screamed.

“No, there’s no time Cap. It’s, it’s not going to hold. Wanda, can you--?” Bruce was cut off.

A snap rippled through the vicinity. A loud noise began, like the sound of an avalanche.

 _Shit_.

“Wanda, force field!” Peter yelled as the entire building above them crashed down upon where he stood.

 

Peter assessed the damage. He was pretty sure something in his leg had been crushed, from the throbbing sensation he felt. His rib felt pretty tender, too, but maybe that was just a bruise.

Overall, the last minute force field Wanda was able to project onto them worked wonders. The concentrated force from her channeling the drill’s pulse, plus the added weight of an entire building, had dislodged the drill-ship just enough that it now formed part of a protective covering of the space Tony and Peter occupied, about the length of two Iron Man suits. It was tight, but the rocks above them were holding for now, webbed together by Peter’s webs once Wanda could no longer sustain the shield through the rubble.

Peter webbed it up a bit more. It felt like he was in a tent. Except for the occasional rock that slipped in, reminding him of the building that threatened to crush him and his beloved mentor at the drop of the hat.

Once he was satisfied with his additions, he turned his attention to Tony. He was still, a word Peter had never used to describe the man.

“FRIDAY, run vitals,” he said, kneeling beside him, voice breaking as he spoke.

“Multiple lacerations detected on surface of the skin. Five broken ribs. A piece of alien machinery is wedged dangerously close to his lumbar vertebrae. Broken tibia and fibula. Broken radius. Threat of bleeding out: moderate. Medical attention required.” FRIDAY responded.

“Ah, shoot. Okay, FRIDAY, what about above us—what are we looking at?” Peter asked. The comm’s had cut out when they became buried. Peter was flying solo.

“Your refuge will hold for approximately twenty minutes, given my estimates. Reapply webs every 90 seconds to further reinforce the structure.” FRIDAY reported.

“Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, that’s ok. We can do that.” Peter muttered to himself, as he prayed that Cap and the team would get to them in less than that.

“Uhh okay let’s see. Trapped under building. We’re fine, it’ll be fine. Tony? Tony, can you hear me? You’re not doing too hot, Tony.”

Tony’s head moved but his eyes remained shut. “Tony?” Peter crouched closer to his helmet. “FRIDAY, retract the helmet.” Tony’s face opened before Peter, who proceeded to crouch closer ‘til he was inches away from his eyes. “Mr. Stark? I mean, Tony? Can you wake up?” No response.

Peter moved his hand, poised to poke Tony’s face, when all of the sudden his eyes fluttered open. Peter dropped his hand, and as Tony came to, he looked confusedly at Peter—inches from his face.

“Oh sorry, I was—I was just…uh, hey. You’re hurt.” Peter fumbled. “We’re stuck under a building.” He looked at Tony. _What now?_ “Oh God. We’re stuck under a building. You’re hurt.” Peter shut his eyes. “No, we can’t do this right now. Okay, I’m good, I’m good. Mr. Stark, how are you? Can you move?”

Tony was still orienting himself. “Yeah, I’m, I’m good, kid.” He moaned as he tried to move his limbs side to side. “Ah, that’s yep, that feels nice.”

“FRIDAY says the main thing is your broken bones and a piece of Chitauri gear near your spine, so I wouldn’t move too much.” Peter reported. “She says you might bleed out, though, so…should I try to take it out?”

“I—uh—I can’t think too straight, I’m, I’m not sure. I—how long have we—are they coming?” Tony was getting pale.

Crap. Peter thought. “Yeah, they, uh, hopefully soon, but I’m not sure. There’s a lot of building above us.” Peter heard a creaking, and rocks fell near his feet. He turned from Tony and reinforced his webbing.

“I think, I think I just need to close my eyes, but…” Tony trailed off.

“No, Tony. No, stay awake. Hey, open your eyes.” Peter yelled, turning his attention immediately to Tony’s fading glance. His eyes closed, and he didn’t answer. “FRIDAY, tell me what to do,” he said, his voice breaking even more.

“I detect no significant change in the structural weight above us. Estimated ten minutes until the shelter disintegrates. Mr. Stark is now at a critical risk for bleeding out. Immediate medical intervention suggested.” She reported.

“C’mon Cap where are you?” Peter whined. “Okay, FRI, we can wait right? We can wait til the team gets here?”

“Waiting is not advised.” She answered coldly.

Peter sighed, closed his eyes, and paused. “Okay,” he said with determination, eyes shooting open. “What do I need to do?”

FRIDAY talked him through each step, and Peter rolled the unconscious Tony onto his side as he prepared to remove the metal shard.

“Remember, Peter, you must activate the laser immediately and work with precision,” Karen added into his ear.

“Thanks Karen, I know,” Peter replied shortly. She had needed to talk him through his new suit’s lasers after FRIDAY had advised Peter cauterize the wound.

“Ready?” He asked, speaking more to himself than to FRIDAY or Karen. “3, 2, 1…” He pulled the hand-sized shard of metal from Tony’s side, and the man let out a sharp cry.

“Go.” Karen ordered. Peter shot his laser into the gaping red wound, exposed through the armor by the shard. Tony moaned. “I’m sorry, Tony. Almost done.” It smelled like burnt flesh.

“90% successful,” FRIDAY reported as Peter turned off his laser and observed his handiwork. “That should keep him stable.” Tony’s eyes fluttered open again as FRIDAY spoke.

Peter exhaled a sigh of relief. But it was interrupted by the sound of crumbling rock. “Crap.” Peter turned to web up the roof again. FRIDAY had given him a ten-minute estimate not too long ago, and still there was no sign of the team.

Peter could hold it if it started to crumble, but not forever. If only he could prop it up with something…

“Wait.” His eyes shot open. “Tony? Tony, you hear me?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled. “I hear you.”

“I need you to get out of the suit.”

“The building is about to fall, and you want me out of the suit…” Tony didn’t follow.

“Sentinel. Sentinel mode. Get the suit to hold up our position, it’ll buy us time.” Peter spoke so quickly that it took the sluggish Tony a few seconds to process it.

“Nice, kid,” he said once he realized his plan, already opening up his suit. As Tony went to sit up, he gasped.

“Here, I got you, I got you,” Peter said, lifting him up out of the suit and seating him beside himself, despite the pain the movement caused his aching leg.

Tony gave his suit its orders and it assumed position, crouching with metal hands planted firmly on the webbed roof above them. Tony seemed more alert now, his condition stable though still shaky.

“That should help,” he noted. As Tony took note of their surroundings, his eyes quickly met Peter’s. “How are you, kid?” he asked, voice serious and unwavering.

“Trying not to think about that,” he answered quickly. “So, uh, any way we can get the comms back up?”

Tony noticed his change of topic. “Odd’s are, we won’t be able to get through til they remove more of this rubble. But then at least we’ll know they’re close I guess.”

“So they’re not close, then.” Peter concluded.

“Not yet.” Tony added hopefully, as Peter distracted himself by webbing up the rocks some more. Mid-way through his webbing, a groan sounded through the rocks. Without warning, one end of their cave-room crumbled in.

“Back, get back.” Tony yelled, pushing Peter back as best as he could from where he sat. “Under the armor, get under it.”

Their space was now cut in half in length, about one suit’s length and filling with dust. Peter coughed as the dust began to settle.

“Oh no,” he said. Tony’s eyes shot up. He knew what followed.

“Hey, don’t shut down. Don’t shut down on me. Look at me. Look at me Peter,” he begged, hand reaching for Peter’s neck. The boy now sat crouched beside him under the armor. His breaths intensified. He gasped for air.

“I’m stuck. I can’t, I can’t—“ Peter was losing it.

The rocks shifted again, and another end of the roof caved in, crashing down on Tony’s legs. He gasped as the hard rocks struck his already injured bones.

“Tony? Tony? Is that you?” Bruce’s voice blasted over the comms.

“Bruce, I—hurry. I’m gonna pass out. I—the kid, he…” A wave of pain shot through Tony’s body and his eyes shut closed.

“Tony? Can you hear me? Tony?” Bruce’s voice filled the now-tiny space, emanating from the suit. Peter’s gasps were the only response he heard. “Peter?”

Sobs.

“Peter? Can you hear me?” Bruce paused. “I need you to answer me.”

“Yeah, I—I can hear you,” he practically whispered through sobs.

“Are you okay? I need to know the sit rep.”

“Tony’s hurt. He, he needs m-medical attention.” Peter answered, voice growing slightly stronger.

“And you? Are you…”

“Fine, I’m fine.” He answered before Bruce could finish.  
Bruce knew Peter well enough to imagine what he was thinking.

“Peter, focus on my voice. You are not going to die. You will not die. Okay? We’re here, we’re coming.” Bruce said calmly, evenly. “Ok?” Peter nodded, even though Bruce couldn’t see him.

“I need you to get Tony, and I need you to huddle together, ok?” Bruce continued. “Wanda’s going to make a shield, and we’re going to start blasting the rocks away. You copy?”

“I copy,” Peter said, his voice gaining courage with each word.

“Okay, let me know when you’ve got him.”

Peter crawled to Tony’s side, and dragged him toward the suit, dislodging all the rocks crushing his legs one by one. Tony moaned and opened his eyes.

“Hey, hey kid.”

“They’re gonna get us out,” he replied, tears drying.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” Tony assured him. He let out another yelp as Peter turned him around, placing him directly next to his side.

“We’re ready, Dr. Banner.” Peter reported, as Tony draped his arm around Peter’s shoulder.

“Okay, get ready, and hold on,” he warned. Seconds later, a red glow surrounded them and a blast shook the ground. Blast after blast continued, and Peter clung to Tony’s side.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he repeated, pulling Peter close as the rocks roared and everything shook. It felt like they couldn’t breathe, like there was no air left between them. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d swear they were dying; he couldn’t imagine how Peter felt.

And then…silence. And light. Too much light. Tony couldn’t see anything, as he shielded his eyes from the brightness. He looked down, at Peter’s form curled up and still clinging to him tightly.

“Hey, open your eyes. We’re safe. They got us. They got us,” he smiled, rubbing Peter’s back. As his eyes slowly opened and looked around, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. The dust settled to reveal Cap and Banner, standing atop the rubble. Rhodey and Sam flew not far behind.

“Thank God,” Cap breathed. “We couldn’t hear you and we thought—we thought,” he didn’t finish.

“Banner, thanks for talking us through that last bit,” Tony responded. “And Peter?” Tony paused. “Thanks for saving my life.” They looked at each other in silence. “We’ll talk about the whole disobeying orders part and being a self-sacrificial dumbass part later,” Tony added, as the sound of approaching sirens echoed through the block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the feedback. the story's wrapping up, but let me know if there's anything else you'd like to see play out in the Tony-Peter relationship! Appreciate all your kind comments and ideas!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! Tony faces the aftermath of the building incident, and Peter faces Tony. Got some good Bruce-nerd Peter time in there. It's pretty weird writing Tony as the hurt one. This is pretty fluffy, and next chapter will be resolution to the story arc. Thanks for reading!

“He’s proud of you. You know that right?” Bruce broke the awkward silence as he and Peter walked down the hall away from the med bay. They had stopped by to visit Tony, now on his third day recovering. The kid had looked shell-shocked ever since they pulled him out of the rubble. Seeing Tony like this was only making it worse.

“I, uh, I just—look at him. I should’ve—could’ve done more.” Peter avoided eye contact as he finished his sentence.

“You saved his life, Peter. He’s alive because you intervened. Now, whether or not that was what he would have wanted you to do, that’s another question. But everyone’s alive so I’m happy.” Bruce muttered. “He just worries about you.” 

Peter didn’t answer. 

“Okay, you’re killing me. You know he’s not gonna die, right? You’re gonna give yourself grey hairs if you keep this up. You’re too young for grey hairs, Peter.” Bruce tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, yeah, I know Dr. Banner. Sorry, it’s just, I’ve, I’ve never seen him like that. So it’s…tough. I forget he doesn’t heal like me, that he’s just a human under the suit.” 

“I know. I know kid.” Bruce stopped and looked excitedly over at Peter. “Why don’t ya come with me? I have something that may cheer you up.” 

 

Peter and Bruce spent the next three hours in the lab. They analyzed Bruce’s DNA as the doctor explained the molecular mechanisms at play in the Banner to Hulk transformation. Peter was so enthralled that he demanded a swab of his own DNA be analyzed. Now, hours later, they were knee deep in Peter’s genetic code. 

“THIS IS SO COOL.” Peter felt like he was at the Midtown Science Fair again. Except it was infinitely cooler. He couldn’t wait to tell Ned. 

“Fascinating. It’s as if your human DNA selected specific evolutionarily advantageous segments of spider DNA to incorporate into its genome. It’s as if your body knew what would be compatible…I wonder—“ 

Bruce was cut off by FRIDAY on the intercom. “Peter, the Boss is awake and asking for you.” 

Peter took off running, leaving his experiments behind in a flash. 

When he arrived to Tony’s room, the man was sitting up in his hospital bed, looking focused and aware. Substantially different from the pale, sleeping Tony Peter had left. 

“So FRIDAY tells me you’ve been staring at me like a kid flushing his dead fish down the toilet.” 

Peter smiled, his tensed posture relaxing. Tony was back alright. 

“Did she really say that? That exactly?” he countered.

“You know what I mean. C’mon why the grim face? Tears for your long lost—“ Tony paused. Mentor? Boss? Father….figure? None of those words fit…He brushed off the awkward skip. “I’m not lost by the way. It’s a few broken things, I’ll be fine.” He offered Peter a smile. 

In return, Peter inched closer to the bed. “I know you’re fine, I just—I worry.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh God, you sound like Pepper. What is this? Kid, since when are you doing the worrying? Outrageous. Okay, go gallivant into trouble so we can reverse these roles back to normal real quick.” 

Peter laughed. But there was still something unsettled in his gaze. It’s like he wouldn’t make eye contact with the older man, not really.

“Pete. What’s up? You ok?” Tony’s tone got serious in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, I’m fine, you’re the one in the hospital gown.” Peter answered, façade cracking ever so slightly. He tried to play it off like a jab, but his voice betrayed him. 

“This, yes this is terrible. I’ve never seen my dignity scraped away like this and I’m pretty sure Bruce just wanted to see my ass.” After a brief hesitation, he continued seriously again. “But I know…I know what happened was rough. On you. But I want you to know you saved my ass. And I appreciate the hell out of you for that. But…please Peter Parker, I will ground you for a million frickin lightyears if you sacrifice your dumb ass for me like that again. Ok?”

“Ok. I just—I’m sorry, I.” Tears. Peter stepped closer to Tony subconsciously. “I couldn’t—I can’t, I can’t lose you. Not you. Not you, too.” 

Tony was speechless. They’d gone from zero to sixty in affection these past few weeks. And Tony would be damned if he didn’t reach out his arms to the kid before he knew what he was doing. Was this weird? Screw it, he thought. His kid needed him. 

“C’mere, Peter. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

And they stood like that for what seemed like an hour. Peter, leaning against the bed, wrapped under Tony’s tight embrace. 

 

When Tony was released from the med bay, Peter’s mood exponentially increased. 

“…and then maybe we can watch the latest Star Wars? Or play a game? Did you know that in the past week they updated all the graphics on Call of Duty? And Clint wanted to play anyway so maybe he can come. Unless you want to chill. You’ve had a rough week, so I don’t blame you if you want peace and quiet. But not like too much quiet because I’ve had nothing but quiet and FRIDAY is kinda boring me so I want to talk a little to you but I can also respect your preferences and stuff.”

“Jeez, kid, breathe.” Tony finally interjected. Peter stopped in his tracks, realizing how fast he’d been speaking. Before he could apologize, Tony started up again. “Yes.”

“To which part?”

“All of it.” 

 

 

They started with Star Wars, Tony’s leg propped up with popcorn between them. Peter’s commentary was enough to keep Tony thoroughly entertained throughout the entire movie. Even through the credits, Peter was raving about what he had witnessed. 

“Alright, kiddo. COD’s gotta wait ‘til tomorrow. It’s like 1AM and I’m already an awful guardian for letting you stay up this late.” 

“C’mon it’s summer, no one cares about bed times.” Peter whined.

“Peter, there’s no such thing as summer when you’re an Avenger. Welcome to the real world. That’s what ya get for not going to college.” Tony jabbed. 

Peter rolled his eyes playfully. “6AM training doesn’t start ‘til next week…” 

“Habits take 21 days to form, young Jedi.” Tony quickly interjected, waving his hand as if he were using the force. 

“So, sleep?” Tony added. Peter’s joking mood slipped away. He froze. 

“Yeah, I uh, ok.” Peter answered. 

“What? Why are you acting weird? You have been sleeping while I was in the med bay, right?” Tony asked with concern. 

“Oh yeah, plenty Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice rose two octaves.

“Bullshit. You only call me Mr. Stark now when you’re nervous…Have you slept at all the past five days?” Tony’s eye’s narrowed. 

Peter stuttered. “I, uh, yes, I have every night gotten a bit of sleep.”

“Barring 3 one hour long naps, Peter has not slept for over 72 hours,” FRIDAY chimed in.

“Alright, you little snitch…” Peter muttered. “That’s betrayal. We talked about everything FRIDAY, and now ya stab me in the back.” 

“Sorry Peter. Boss’ rules.” 

“What can I say, I make loyal fake friends,” Tony declared. “But, in all seriousness buddy. 72 freaking hours. How are you still standing here?!” 

“Caffeine. Powers. A miracle of God?” Peter answered unconvincingly. 

Tony sighed. “Peter. Is it the nightmares? Did they get worse?” He said it as if it pained him. Peter’s joking evasions crumbled. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, they have,” he answered honestly, his voice breaking. “I didn’t, I figured I would just…deal with it.”

“You could’ve gotten me.”

“You were hurt. You were in the med bay. I can’t expect you to come running every time this happens. It’s not…it’s not practical.” Peter’s eyes shifted to the ground.

“Peter. Look at me. We’ve both seen shit. I’m not gonna beat around the bush. I know it’s awful, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, this kinda shit makes us need other people even more. And if you need people, that’s okay. So until the day you stop needing people, I’m gonna be here. Okay? Capisce? If that’s one week, okay. If it’s not, okay. It takes time. That’s normal.” 

“I, I know. I’m just, I feel like superheroes, we—we should be strong. We should be stronger,” he halfway mumbled.

“Peter Parker, you’re one of the strongest men I know.” 

Peter didn’t say anything, but just gazed up to meet his mentor’s eyes. How had they ended up like this, having heart to hearts every other day? Thank God for Tony, Peter thought. Without fully thinking it through, he stepped forward, arms open for a hug.

Without fully realizing he was doing it, Tony’s arms opened to receive him. As they broke apart minutes later, Tony was the first to speak. “C’mon Pete, let’s try to sleep, ok?” 

Peter nodded silently. Walking to his bed was scarier than it should have been, but he trudged on by Tony’s side nonetheless. As he got settled under the covers, Tony watched from the doorway. He hesitated to leave though, reading Peter’s fear in the tense movements etched in every move the kid made. 

“You can do this. You know that right?” he reminded him from the doorway. “It’s gonna get better.” 

Peter nodded. He thought about last time he had tried to sleep, and how memories of collapsing buildings and May dying had now gained a new chapter: Tony trapped, suffocating. His mouth twitched, the way Tony’s did when he was nervous. Funny, the way their mannerisms were bleeding into each other’s. 

They stayed still, looking at each other, for just a second too long. Tony felt frozen. Peter’s eyes were wide. 

“Do you want me to—“ “Do you think you could—“ they both said the words at the same time. 

“Yes.” They said that at the same time, too. 

And wordlessly, Tony plopped down on the other side of the mattress, fluffing the pillow behind him. 

“Lights, FRIDAY.” Tony said. The lights dimmed, and the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling were all that pierced the darkness. They both stared up at the shapes. 

“Thanks Mr.—Tony.” Peter whispered, after a few seconds of silence. "You're not--you're not going anywhere, right?" 

“I'm not going anywhere.,” was all he replied, and with that confirmation, Peter’s mind wandered into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kind comments appreciated :D anything you want to see as we leave this story behind next chapter?


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